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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/antietamitsbridgOOhaysrich 


By  Helen  AsKe  Hays 


The  Antietam  and  Its  Bridges 

The  Annals  of  an  Historic  Stream 

A  Little  Maryland  Garden 


/ 


T       vntietam  and  Its  B> 

The  Annals  of  an  Historic  Stream 


By 
Helen  Ashe  Hays 


Ivan  17  PKUogravurea  from  PhMogtaplu  knf 
John  C.  Artz 


G.  P.  Putnam's   Sons 

New   York   and    London 

Sbe  ftnicltecbocher  preM 

1910 


«*>?J?S5i|fe>^v- 


^'^mmm 


The  Antietam  and  Its  Bridges 

The  Annals  of  an  Historic  Stream 


Helen  Ashe  Hays 


With  17  Photogravures  from  Photographs  by 
John  C.  Artz 


G.  P.   Putnam's   Sons 

New   York   and    London 

VLbz  fmfcftecbocitet  press 

1910 


•  •      •    V 


*  BY  " ' 
HELEN  ASHE  HAYS 


XChe  ftnidterbocket  prcM,  Itew  Sorfe 


Contents 


HAPTE 
I. 

PART  I.     THE  COUNTRY 

R 

Along  the  Antietam 

PAGE 

3 

II. 

The  Valley 

II 

III. 

The  Making  of  Roads    . 

.       19 

IV. 

The  Masonry  Arch 

•       30 

V. 

The  Levy  Court     .... 

.       40 

VI. 

The  County  Commissioners    . 

•       47 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XL 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 


PART  II.     THE  BRIDGES 

Old  Sharpsburg 

The  Lower  Antietam  and  Burnside's  Bridge 

Keedysville  and  the  Hitt  Bridge 

The  Bridge  at  Delemere        .... 

The   Bridges   at   Roxbury,   Claggett's,  and 
Rose's  Mills 


61 

74 
86 

97 


109 
121 
139 


The  Bridge  at  Funkstown 

The  Bridge  at  Hagerstown    . 

The  New  Bridge  and  the  Bridge  at  Old  Forge     157 

The  Two  Bridges  at  Leitersburg        .         .168 


M46146 


Illustrations 


The  Bridge  at  Devil's  Backbone 

Leitersburg  Road  Bridge 

Trovinger's  Mill 

The  Bridge  at  Old  Forge  . 

The  Bridge  at  Roxbury 

The  Second  Funkstown  Bridge  . 

The  Bridge  at  Antietam  Iron  Works 

Burnside's  Bridge 

The  Hitt  Bridge 

The  Bridge  at  Delemere   . 

The  Bridge  at  Rose's  Mill 

The  Bridge  at  Claggett's  Mill 

Claggett's  Mill 

Funkstown  Turnpike  Bridge 

Hager's  Bridge 

The  Bridge  on  the  Cavetown  Turnpike 

The  Leitersburg  Turnpike  Bridge     . 


Frontispiece 


8 

14 
24 

44 
54 
68 

76 

88 
98 
112 
118 
124 
128 
142 
160 
172 


Part  I:  The  Country 


Chapter  I  ij  ••,/ 

Along  the  Antietam       '.  i'\\„M' '^^' 

THERE  is  a  stream  running  through  Washington  County, 
Maryland,  from  the  Pennsylvania  line  to  the  Potomac 
River,  whose  name  will  be  famous  as  long  as  America 
endures,  the  placid  Antietam. 

It  has  been  impossible  to  trace  the  meaning  of  its  name, 
but  tradition  says  that  it  is  of  Indian  origin.  It  is  probably 
the  name  of  an  Indian  chief,  and  in  early  times  its  musical 
syllables  were  spelled  in  various  ways.  We  find  it  written 
"Anteatem, "  and  oftener  yet  in  the  rather  cannibalistic 
form  of  "Anti-Eatem. "  It  is  a  beautiful,  wide  stream, 
meandering  slowly  through  a  country  of  great  beauty  and 
interest.  Sycamores  lean  their  dappled  trunks  across  it, 
and  water  willows  mark  its  course  with  soft  masses  of 
grayish  foliage  while  they  hide  it  from  view.  A  tangle  of 
blackberries  and  wild  roses,  of  papaws  and  hazel  bushes, 
of  elder  and  poisonous  ivy,  fringes  its  banks.  Its  waters 
are  not  sparkling;  they  often  carry  a  large  amount  of  muddy 
matter  which  gives  the  stream  a  thick  and  turgid  appearance, 
and  after  heavy  rains  it  will  carry  this  earthy  charge  for 
days.  But  it  is  peacefully  beautiful,  and  flows  through  one 
of  the  richest  farming  lands  in  America. 

Before  the  days  when  its  name  passed  into  history,  many 

3 


4  ^be  Hntietam 

settlements  of  early  colonists  grew  up  along  its  banks. 
Germans  from  the  Fatherland  and  English  from  the  Mother- 
country  came  to  the  valley  of  the  Antietam,  bringing  with 
them  the  habits,  the  beliefs  and  industries  of  the  old  world. 
Relics  of  these  pioneer  days  are  found  in  plenty  along  the 
stream..  -.  Its  banks  still  bear  the  traces  of  those  early 
times;"  and  of  the  initial  conquest  of  the  land  from  the 
{jjriideriiefS^  and  the  Indians. 

When  we  think  of  those  early  settlers  we  must  remember 
their  relation  to  the  outside  world.  Between  them  and  the 
coast,  with  its  towns  and  its  shipping  trade  with  Europe, 
was  the  blue  wall  of  the  Alleghany  mountains,  isolating  the 
valley  and  making  it  a  thing  apart.  It  was  entered  only 
after  a  toilsome  journey,  and  the  people  who  settled  in  it 
cut  themselves  off,  to  a  great  extent,  from  the  coast  land  to 
the  East  and  the  trading  posts  of  the  West.  They  found 
themselves  in  a  cradle  between  the  mountains,  whose  ranges 
to  the  east  and  west  they  somewhat  inconsequently  called 
the  North  and  South  mountains.  Here  they  went  patiently 
to  work  to  establish  settlements  which  should  be  safe  from 
Indian  interference,  and  give  them  the  easy  subsistence 
which  the  fertility  of  the  soil  promised. 

The  Antietam  flows  under  the  slopes  of  the  South  Moun- 
tain, gathering  up  the  waters  of  smaller  streams  on  its  way 
to  the  Potomac.  It  rises  in  Pennsylvania,  and  flows 
through  the  eastern  part  of  the  Hagerstown  valley  till  it 
enters  the  Potomac  below  Sharpsburg.  The  Little  An- 
tietam joins  it  near  Keedysville,  Beaver  Creek  below  the 
Delemere  bridge,  and  many  little  streams  and  brooks  add 
their  tribute  to  its  waters. 

What  various  scenes,  and  what  a  strange  procession  of 


along  tbe  Entietam  5 

peoples  this  Antietam  Creek  has  mirrored!  In  the  old  days, 
the  Indians  travelled  along  its  banks,  and  waded  in  its 
shallows.  There  were  then  no  crossings  except  such  as 
the  kindly  fords  allowed.  Perhaps  a  tree  trunk  thrown 
across  the  stream  at  its  narrowest  would  serve  for  a  bridge 
until  the  next  high  water  bore  it  away.  But  the  Indian, 
always  able  to  bide  his  time  and  adapt  his  journey  to  the 
physical  features  of  the  country,  did  not  force  the  passage 
of  the  stream. 

In  the  earliest  days  of  which  we  have  records,  the  Shaw- 
nees  came  to  the  banks  of  the  Antietam,  and  after  them 
the  Delawares  and  Catawbas,  painted  and  clad  in  skins, 
with  feathered  heads.  Many  a  naked  babe  was  dipped  in 
the  stream,  even  when  ice  clung  to  the  banks,  to  harden  its 
muscles  and  fit  it  for  life  in  the  open.  Many  an  Indian  girl 
studied  her  face  in  the  waters,  and  admired  her  bright  eyes 
and  slender  figure.  But  these  wandering  people  left  no 
imprint  on  the  country,  building  neither  monuments  nor 
bridges  nor  altars  to  their  gods.  Always  moving  to  and  fro, 
roaming  through  forest  and  by  stream,  and  warring  against 
other  tribes,  passed  the  Shawnees,  the  most  restless  of  them 
all.  They  moved  to  the  West  and  the  Antietam  saw  no 
more  of  them.  But  others  came  who  were  powerful  men  and 
great  fighters,  the  Delawares  from  Pennsylvania  and  their 
hereditary  enemies,  the  Catawbas  from  the  Carolinas. 

When  the  earliest  settlers  began  to  raise  their  log  houses, 
they  were  on  friendly  terms  with  the  Indians,  and  were  not 
molested  by  them.  The  savages,  however,  fought  among 
themselves,  and  we  know  of  two  great  battles  which  took 
place  in  the  valley,  one  where  the  Antietam,  the  other  where 
the  Conococheague,  empty  their  waters  into  the  Potomac. 


6  ^be  antletam 

It  is  interesting  in  this  connection  to  notice  the  occurrence 
of  fords  at  the  mouth  of  streams,  which  were  of  such  impor- 
tance to  the  Indians  who  made  no  bridges.  In  his  work  on 
historic  highways,  Mr.  Hurlbutt  tells  us  that  the  sagacity 
of  the  Indian  led  him  to  the  conclusion  that  where  one 
stream  empties  its  waters  into  another  was  often  found  the 
best  and  safest  ford.  This  would  seem  an  anomaly,  for  it 
would  naturally  be  supposed  that  in  such  places  the  water 
would  be  deep  and  the  crossing  dangerous.  In  his  studies 
of  Indian  highways,  the  mass  of  evidence  on  this  subject 
pointed  to  a  law.  He  considered  Braddock's  ford  over  the 
Monongahela  at  the  mouth  of  Turtle  Creek,  and  the  fords 
over  the  Muskingum  at  the  mouth  of  Sandy  Creek,  and  over 
the  Ohio  at  the  mouths  of  the  Wheeling  and  Sunfish  creeks, 
and  the  Little  and  Great  Kanawha  and  Licking  rivers. 
And  studying  it  out  he  arrived  at  this  explanation,  that 
streams  in  their  natural  state,  where  their  course  has  not 
been  altered  by  dredging  or  any  work  of  human  agency, 
carrying  down  a  certain  amount  of  sand  and  mud,  de- 
posit this  sediment  when  they  meet  the  waters  of  another 
stream  or  river;  and  this  deposit  makes  a  sort  of  bar  which 
can  be  followed,  and  makes  a  fairly  safe  and  shallow  cross- 
ing.    It  was  an  important  factor  in  Indian  travel. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  Conococheague  where  Williamsport 
now  stands,  and  where  the  creek  enters  the  Potomac,  there 
is  one  of  these  crossings.  Here  a  great  battle  was  fought 
between  the  Delaware  and  Catawba  tribes,  and  all  the 
implements  of  Indian  warfare  have  been  unearthed  beside 
the  stream.  Again,  below  Sharpsburg  where  the  Antietam 
flows  into  the  river,  there  was  a  famous  fight,  and  bones, 
sloills,  and  arrowheads  can  be  scratched  out  of  the  earth 


Hlong  tbc  Hnttetam  7 

to-day  on  the  scene  of  the  conflict.  This  fight  was  so 
illustrative  of  Indian  character  that  the  story  is  worth 
telling,  for  the  sake  of  an  understanding  of  the  tribes 
with  whom  the  white  men  of  that  day  were  brought  in 
contact. 

It  took  place  in  1736,  a  few  years  before  the  earliest 
grants  of  land  were  made  to  settlers  along  the  Antietam. 
The  valley  was  so  fertile,  and  so  full  of  game  and  fish,  that 
it  was  a  favorite  hunting  ground  for  warriors  both  from 
the  North  and  South,  and  parties  were  constantly  passing 
through  it.  Before  the  great  battle  was  fought,  the  Dela- 
wares  hunted  through  it,  and  being  successful  and  daring, 
they  moved  farther  and  farther  south  until  they  came  into 
the  country  of  the  Catawbas.  As  they  were  fat  with  good 
things  they  became  insolent,  and  did  unspeakable  things  to 
the  Catawbas.  This  roused  the  latter  to  such  rage  and 
resentment  that  they  armed  themselves,  and  as  the  Dela- 
wares  started  northward  again  they  were  followed  by  their 
enemies.  At  the  mouth  of  the  Antietam,  where  it  deposits 
its  burden  of  silt,  the  retreating  braves  made  their  camp,  and 
here  the  Catawbas  came  up  with  them  and  gave  battle. 
This  time  the  race  was  to  the  swift  and  the  battle  to  the 
strong.  The  Delawares  met  their  pursuers  joyfully,  turn- 
ing the  lust  of  the  chase  to  the  lust  of  fighting.  The  valley, 
rang  with  shoutings  and  the  horrid  cries  of  Indian  warfare. 
One  by  one  the  Catawbas  were  struck  down;  smaller  and 
smaller  grew  their  numbers  till  where  they  had  stood  by 
tens,  they  fought  by  twos  and  threes.  The  triumphant 
Delawares  annihilated  the  enemies  whom  they  had  stirred 
up  by  their  evil  deeds — all  but  one.  One  man  of  the  Cataw- 
bas fled,  while  the  scalps  of  his  tribe  were  bleeding  in  the 


8  JLhc  Hntietam 

hands  of  his  foes.  As  if  by  a  miracle  he  escaped  from  the 
battlefield,  and  fled  northward. 

Now  comes  an  instance  of  Indian  character,  vindictive, 
merciless,  and  tireless.  After  the  battle,  when  the  warriors 
displayed  their  dangling  scalps,  one  man  alone  of  the  Dela- 
wares  had  no  trophy  to  show.  He  had  not  a  single  scalp, 
and  something  must  be  done  to  retrieve  his  disgrace.  He 
started  in  pursuit  of  the  one  enemy  who  had  escaped.  For 
a  long  journey  of  one  hundred  miles  he  tracked  the 
unfortunate  Catawba,  and  finally  coming  upon  him  on  the 
banks  of  the  Susquehanna,  he  tomahawked  him  and  took 
his  scalp  back  to  the  tribe. 

There  is  another  story,  of  Indian  love,  quite  as  terrible 
in  its  way  as  of  Indian  hate,  which  took  place  at  this  same 
time  beside  the  Antietam. 

A  young  French  girl,  named  Rosaline,  lived  with  her 
father  and  mother  and  little  brother  on  the  Red  Hill,  near 
Keedysville  by  the  Antietam.  No  doubt  she  was  slender 
and  dark-eyed,  and  had  the  grace  of  her  countrywomen. 
That  she  was  attractive  enough  to  inspire  a  savage  passion 
we  learn  from  her  story. 

This  French  settler  and  his  family  lived  in  a  log  house, 
leading  a  life  which,  with  all  its  simplicity,  was  not 
necessarily  one  of  privation  in  this  rich  and  fertile  valley. 
When  Rosaline  was  growing  to  womanhood,  the  battle  be- 
tween the  Catawbas  and  Delawares  was  fought.  Hearing 
the  dreadful  sounds  of  the  battle,  the  settler  and  his  family 
fled  to  the  South  Moimtain,  where  they  took  refuge  in  a 
hiding  place  known  to  them.  Here  they  stayed  for  days, 
afraid  to  venture  back  to  the  house  for  fear  the  Indians 
might  still  be  in  the  neighborhood.     For  though  ordinarily 


8 


hands  of  his 

battlefield,  auu  UtU  i^^jcrm&s. 

Now  comes  an  \i\^,t.T^' 
merciless,  and  tireless, 
cjwplrsv*^  their  dangling  - 

to  shou 


isvba,  an 
the  Susquehanna,  hi?  i 
\tack  to  the  tril 


tCbc  ftnttetam 

.e  he  escaped  from  the 


meter,  vindictive, 
en  the  warriors 
rv*  of  the  Dela- 
te scalp, 

'  I  r- 

Kor 

the 

the 

id  took 


.  love,  quite  as  terrible 
The  Leitersburgh   Roaa^'Wagfeat  this  same 

Hh  her 


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It'    itr.tx 

the  ; In- 

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hid  in 

af- 

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.  ;.-jt 

valley. 

'     l:>e- 

ring 

aily 

'^e  in  a 

;;iys, 

ians 

oinarily 


Hlong  tbe  Hntletam  9 

on  friendly  terms  with  them,  the  father  feared  that  when 
fired  with  the  rage  of  battle,  they  might  kill  anything  that 
came  in  their  way. 

For  days  they  lay  hidden,  suffering  for  want  of  food, 
and  exposed  to  the  weather.  Added  to  this,  the  women  and 
the  child  suffered  from  fear,  the  most  demoralizing  agent 
that  tender  organizations  can  be  subjected  to.  The  shouts 
of  the  savages  rang  in  their  ears  and  the  constant  dread  that 
painted  men  with  tomahawks  might  find  out  their  hiding 
place  reduced  them  to  such  a  state  of  terror  and  weakness 
that  when  Orlando  thought  it  safe  to  return  the  poor  wife 
sickened  with  a  fever.  The  little  boy,  whose  soul  had  been 
tortured  with  the  dread  of  the  red  men,  fell  ill  with  her,  and 
these  poor  victims  of  the  frontier  died.  Rosaline,  stricken 
with  grief,  and  suffering  as  the  others  had  done  from  ex- 
posure and  agitation,  was  so  weakened  by  these  trials 
that  she  left  the  house  and  its  melancholy  associations, 
and  went  to  stay  with  neighbors.  While  with  these  friends 
she  drank  the  waters  of  a  spring  near-by,  and  in  a  short  time 
was  wonderfully  better.  The  recovery  was  attributed  to 
the  waters  of  the  spring,  which  were  really  of  a  healing 
nature,  and  afterwards  became  famous  through  the  country 
as  the  "Belinda  Springs." 

Strong  and  well  again,  Rosaline  went  back  to  her  father 
on  the  Red  Hill.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  for 
her  to  have  died  with  her  mother  and  little  brother,  than 
to  have  regained  her  health  and  beauty,  for  the  next  act 
in  her  eventful  life  was  that  a  Catawba  chief,  a  tall  and 
handsome  savage,  saw  her  and  going  to  her  father  demanded 
her  in  marriage.  One  can  imagine  the  terror  of  the  young 
girl  with  such  a  lover,  the  dread  of  him  by  night  and  day; 


lo  Zbe  Hntletam 

how  she  would  fear  to  be  alone  in  the  cabin  and  follow  her 
father  whenever  he  was  near,  and  fly  to  the  neighbors  when 
hunting  or  trading  took  him  away  from  her.  The  unfor- 
tunate Rosaline  lived  in  daily  fear,  and  trembled  at  the 
sight  of  every  deerskin  robe  and  feathered  head. 

One  night  when  she  and  her  father  sat  by  the  open  cabin 
door,  a  sudden  shot  struck  Orlando  and  he  fell  dead  at  her 
feet.  The  terrified  girl  hardly  realized  what  had  happened 
when  a  tall  figure  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and  her  Indian 
lover  triumphantly  bore  her  away  to  his  tribe.  There  was 
no  one  to  save  her,  none  but  savages  to  see  her  terror,  and 
Indian  women  to  give  her  such  comfort  as  they  could,  and 
reconcile  her  to  her  lot.  Nothing  more  was  ever  heard  of 
her.  She  had  no  chance  of  escape,  and  one  can  only  hope 
that  the  life  of  the  woods  and  the  wanderings  of  the  tribe 
became  endurable  to  her,  as  we  know  from  old  records  they 
did  become  to  other  captive  women.  It  must  be  said,  how- 
ever, that  these  recorded  instances  have  been  of  those  taken 
as  children  and  reared  in  Indian  ways.  It  was  another 
thing  for  a  girl  who  had  grown  almost  to  womanhood 
among  her  own  people,  and  had  been  taken  at  the  price  of 
her  father's  life,  to  reconcile  herself  to  a  wandering  existence 
with  savages. 


chapter   II 

The  Valley 

BEFORE  the  time  came  when  men  could  build  bridges 
over  the  Antietam,  the  valley  passed  through  a  period 
of  storm  and  stress.  The  friendly  relations  between  the 
white  settlers  and  the  Indians  did  not  continue,  but  it  was 
through  the  differences  between  the  white  races  on  the 
continent  that  they  came  to  an  end.  The  French  and  Eng- 
lish, hereditary  enemies,  could  not  live  in  peace  together 
even  in  such  wide  spaces  as  America  afforded,  and  their 
strife  brought  about  a  warfare  with  the  Indians  which  let 
loose  savage  passions,  and  drove  white  men  for  a  period 
entirely  away  from  the  valley  of  the  Antietam. 

The  Indians  loved  the  French  much  better  than  the 
English.  The  Frenchmen  were  kind  and  sensible  in  their 
treatment  of  them.  They  tried  to  save  them  from  the 
demoralization  of  drink,  and  if  a  trader  sold  liquor  to  them 
he  was  punished  by  being  forbidden  the  sacrament.  French- 
men married  Indian  wives,  and  were  kind  to  them,  and  the 
red  men  looked  upon  them  as  friends. 

The  EngHsh  were  respected  but  not  loved.  "Kicks,  not 
kisses,"  is  the  rule  for  British  mastery  the  world  over,  and 
the  dominant  race  is  loved  accordingly  in  its  foreign  pos- 
sessions.    The    Delawares   told    an    Englishman,    four   or 


12  tTbe  antletam 

five  years  after  the  French  and  Indian  War  was  ended,  that 
while  the  sun  shone  they  would  be  at  enmity  with  them. 

The  French  and  Indian  War  not  only  called  the  settlers 
away  from  their  cabins  to  fight,  but  it  had  a  much  worse 
consequence;  the  Indian  allies  of  the  French  were  loosed 
upon  the  settlements  to  murder  women  and  children.  The 
results  in  the  Antietam  valley  were  desperate.  Indians 
raided  it  again  and  again,  murdering  the  settlers  whenever 
they  could,  and  destroying  their  property.  For  a  time  the 
valley  was  practically  deserted.  George  Washington  wrote 
of  it  in  1756,  when  the  war  was  at  its  height: 

"The  whole  settlement  of  Conococheague "  (the  name 
given  at  that  time  to  all  the  country  between  the  mountains) 
"in  Maryland  is  fled,  and  there  remains  but  only  two  families 
from  thence  to  Predericktown.  That  the  Maryland  settle- 
ments are  aU  abandoned  is  certainly  a  fact,  as  I  had  the 
accounts  transmitted  to  me  by  several  hands  and  confirmed 
yesterday,  the  28th,  by  Henry  Brinker,  who  left  Monocacy 
the  day  before,  and  who  also  affirms  that  350  wagons  passed 
that  place  to  avoid  the  enemy  within  the  space  of  three 
days." 

There  were  a  few  houses  strongly  built  for  defence  which 
served  as  forts  for  the  people  who  remained.  One  was  the 
house  of  Moses  Chapline  near  the  Antietam,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Keedysville,  where  a  number  took  refuge.  An- 
other was  the  house  of  Thomas  Cresap,  the  old  Indian 
fighter,  on  the  Long  Meadows,  still  spoken  of  as  Cresap's 
Fort.  Fort  Frederick  was  built  near  Hancock,  and  was  put 
in  command  of  Joseph  Chapline,  who  left  his  home  near 
Sharpsburg  and  did  not  return  till  the  close  of  the  war,  and 
many  families  took  refuge  in  it. 


Zhc  IDalle^  13 

For  more  than  three  years  the  desolation  of  the  valley 
continued,  and  the  sound  of  the  settler's  axe  was  stilled. 
The  Antietam  no  longer  turned  the  mills,  nor  did  traders 
cross  its  fords.  The' spell  of  fear  was  on  the  valley,  and 
animals  returned  to  the  stream  as  in  the  days  before  the 
white  man  came. 

An  historic  name  was  at  this  time  written  in  the  annals 
of  the  valley.  Many  years  must  pass  before  the  mark  that 
Braddock  made  will  be  obliterated.  A  part  of  his  army, 
which  was  described  by  Franklin  as  "a  slender  line  almost 
four  miles  long, "  marched  direct  from  Alexandria  to  Win- 
chester. But  Braddock  himself  went  to  meet  Franklin  at 
Frederick,  and  from  that  point  a  regiment  under  Colonel 
Dunbar  passed  over  the  South  Mountain  by  Turner's  Gap, 
and  crossed  the  Antietam  twice,  at  Keedysville  and  at 
Delemere,  on  their  way  to  the  Potomac  at  Williamsport. 
At  the  Hitt  bridge  near  Keedysville  a  road  is  pointed  out, 
coming  down  to  the  water  by  a  steep  declivity,  now  almost 
abandoned  in  favor  of  one  that  approaches  it  by  a  more 
gentle  slope.  This  abrupt  and  difficult  track  is  Braddock' s 
road,  and  characteristic  of  his  methods.  He  chose  the 
straightest  way,  and  marched  on  in  spite  of  all  obstacles, 
tearing  out  forest  trees  so  that  it  is  said  that  where  Brad- 
dock's  army  passed,  trees  never  grew  again. 

He  had  a  disdain  of  details,  and  did  not  inform  himself 
very  well  of  the  country  he  was  to  pass  through.  When  he 
heard  that  the  Antietam  had  to  be  crossed,  he  sent  a  de- 
tachment on  with  orders  to  seize  all  the  boats  and  canoes 
on  the  river  for  the  use  of  his  army,  taking  it  for  granted  that 
it  was  both  wide  and  deep.  When  the  troops  reached  it, 
they  found  good  fords  at  both  places. 


Cl^  H^ilctMn 


is  death;  not  in  the 

and  disdaining  any 

-honored  and  English. 

fallen  through  thfs 

•    *  ''S  us  that  he 

-le  travelling 

when  he  found  he 

'  account  given 

field  wounded, 

'    t  for  all  of 

n'ord  till 


Trovinger's  Mill 


'M-n 


Hither 


md  anv 


Jjeir 

soil. 

.'-'  s<junds  of 

-e  more  its  flow 

stream  v 


nearly  a 

hick  w  • 

-Hin,  toned  by  t! 

■^  and  gv 

->.,,.   ^.-ioker*  ' 


the 

the 

are 

.  .  ..ays 

^'uarded 

rious  approach. 


Now  too  was  laid  the  foundation  of  a  town  which  was  to 
grow  into  a  city  and  give  its  name  to  the  valley :  Elizabeth- 
Hager's-Town.  In  the  earliest  Hagerstown  newspapers 
which  we  still  have,  there  are  numerous  references  to  and 
advertisements  of  the  mills.  There  was  a  large  stone  paper- 
mill,  and  small  grist-mill,  and  saw-mill  situated  on  the 
Antietam  Creek,  contiguous  to  Hagerstown  on  the  main 
road  through  Charlton's  Gap  to  Baltimore.  This  road 
we  now  know  as  the  Cavetown  turnpike.  There  was  the 
dyeing  and  fulling-mill  of  Martin  Baechtel,  where  they  would 
receive  woollen  yarn  for  thick  cloth  and  linsey,  and  the 
paper-mill  of  John  Rohrer,  lying  near  the  Marsh. 

Stull's  mill  was  close  to  Hagerstown,  and  an  advertise- 
ment with  reference  to  it  makes  one  realize  that  boys  were 
boys  one  hundred  years  ago,  just  as  they  are  to-day.  A 
miller  living  near  the  stream  complains  in  the  paper  that, 

"Whereas  a  number  of  boys  and  young  men  have  again 
commenced  the  indelicate  habit  of  bathing  within  sight 
of  Stull's  Old  Mill  and  dwelling  house,  to  the  annoyance 
of  the  subscriber's  family,  all  persons  are  forewarned  to 
abstain  from  the  practice  in  future,  between  the  Mill  and 
the  Mouth  of  Bowman's  Run  ** 

That  the  boys  cared  very  little  for  the  feelings  of  these 
decorous  persons  is  evident  from  the  further  notice  inserted 
at  a  later  date  on  the  same  subject,  ending  with  the  words, 

"Boys  in  general,  and  apprentices  in  particular,  would 
do  well  to  be  cautious  how  they  conduct  themselves." 

Among  the  places  advertised  for  sale  was  a  tract  called 
"Salubria, "  having  the  advantage  of  being  only  one  mile 


i6  ^be  Hntlctam 

from  three  large  and  very  extensive  Merchant  Mills,  where 
a  ready  sale  for  the  produce  of  the  farm  could  be  had  on  any 
day  in  the  year.  The  description  goes  on  to  say  that  this 
farm  is  called  a  dry  farm,  "but  it  has  this  immense  advan- 
tage over  other  dry  farms.  It  lies  within  a  short  mile  of 
the  Antietam  Creek,  on  the  public  and  resorted  road,  and 
the  stock  can  be  driven  at  all  times  over  this  road  to  the 
creek."  Another  tract  called  "Hopewell"  is  near  it,  and 
within  three  hundred  yards  of  the  Antietam  and  near  to 
two  Merchant  Mills. 

A  good  still-house  was  a  very  common  adjunct  to  the  mill. 
One  often  sees  such  advertisements  as,  "A  good  dwelling 
house  and  two  distilleries";  "A  log  house,  and  distillery 
in  full  operation";  "A  two  story  dwelling  house.  Spring 
house,  and  Large  Stone  House,  used  alternately  as  Brew 
House  and  Distillery. "  One  has  not  far  to  look  to  find  the 
reason  for  this.  In  the  wretched  condition  of  the  roads  it 
was  easier  for  the  farmer  to  make  a  profit  by  turning  his 
com  and  rye  into  whiskey,  and  so  reduce  its  bulk  and  find  a 
ready  sale  for  it,  than  by  transporting  it  to  the  market  in 
Baltimore.  Whiskey  was  therefore  cheap  because  it  was 
plenty,  and  pure  because  there  was  no  reason  to  adulterate 
it,  and  the  valley  had  a  reputation  for  being  a  great  drinking 
place.  Travellers  often  made  mention  of  it,  and  said  that 
the  inns  where  they  put  up  were  generally  scenes  of  carousal 
before  the  evening  was  over. 

As  early  as  1748  we  have  a  reference  to  Maryland  as  a 
great  whiskey  producing  place,  in  a  speech  made  by  Conrad 
Weiser  to  the  Indians  at  their  village  of  Kuskuskis,  where 
he  met  the  Delawares,  the  Mohawks,  and  deputies  from 
several  nations.    These  Indians  complained  to  him  that  the 


^be  IDalle^  17 

English  traders  brought  in  liquor,  and  protested  against  its 
being  sold  to  their  people.  The  envoy  from  Philadelphia 
replied  that  it  was  in  their  power  to  have  it  stopped  if  they 
were  in  earnest.  "You  go  yourselves,"  he  said  in  reply, 
"and  buy  horse-loads  of  strong  liquor.  But  the  other  day 
an  Indian  came  to  this  town  out  of  Maryland,  with  three 
horse-loads  of  liquor,  so  it  appears  you  love  it  so  well  you 
cannot  be  without  it. " 

Before  the  passing  of  the  excise  law  reduced  its  output, 
whiskey  was  used  to  a  certain  extent  as  a  medium  of  ex- 
change in  Maryland.  A  gallon  of  whiskey  was  equivalent 
to  a  shilling  of  money,  in  making  a  trade.  The  passing  of 
the  law  raised  the  celebrated  Whiskey  Insurrection  in 
Pennsylvania,  but  though  it  was  equally  unwelcome  to  the 
smaU  farmers  in  the  Hagerstown  valley,  and  along  the 
slopes  of  the  South  Mountain,  where  there  were  many  little 
stills,  the  resistance  diminished  in  violence  as  it  spread 
away  from  its  centre.  The  best  element  of  the  community 
upheld  the  government,  and  tried  to  reconcile  the  small 
producers  of  whiskey  to  the  payment  of  the  tax. 

For  several  years  before  the  Whiskey  Rebellion  broke 
out,  the  country  was  at  war  with  the  Indians  of  the  North- 
west. Hagerstown  was  a  sort  of  recruiting  camp  where 
companies  were  raised  and  drilled.  Captains  Lewis  and 
Price,  and  Lieutenant-Colonels  Omdorff ,  Davis,  Sprigg,  and 
Van  Lear,  were  among  the  most  active  in  fitting  out  com- 
panies and  drilling  them.  When,  however,  a  draft  was  called 
for  men  from  each  regiment  to  march  into  Pennsylvania 
and  help  enforce  the  excise  law,  rioting  broke  out,  absurd 
stories  were  spread  among  the  most  ignorant  people  about 
the  new  tax,  and  all  the  baser  element  of  the  community 


i8  ZTbe  Bntietam 

was  in  an  uproar.  It  is  said  that  the  outbreak  was  quite 
as  much  the  result  of  private  spite,  which  vented  itself 
in  this  way,  as  of  a  real  determination  to  resist  the  govern- 
ment. 

The  best  citizens  armed  themselves  and  patrolled  the 
town.  A  message  was  sent  to  the  Governor  at  Annapolis, 
who  immediately  came  to  Hagerstown  to  judge  of  the 
extent  of  the  disaffection.  General  Bailey  marched  to  the 
town  with  over  three  hundred  troops  and  made  arrests 
among  the  most  turbulent  mischief  makers.  In  a  few 
days  order  was  restored,  and  he  left  Hagerstown;  but  an- 
other regiment  on  its  way  to  the  West  was  detained  at  the 
town  for  a  short  time,  to  make  sure  that  the  community 
had  settled  down  again  to  a  state  of  order  and  security. 
Perhaps  the  preponderance  of  orderly  and  law-abiding 
Germans  among  the  settlers  of  the  valley  was  the  cause  of 
the  comparative  ease  with  which  the  new  law  was  enforced, 
unpopular  as  it  was,  while  in  the  neighboring  State  there 
were  numbers  of  Scotch-Irish,  a  stubborn  people  whose 
fighting  blood  was  easily  roused,  and  hot  for  a  disturbance. 
Whatever  the  cause,  the  wave  of  insurrection  which  spread 
from  Pennsylvania  subsided  without  causing  serious  dis- 
affection in  the  Antietam  valley.  The  owners  of  the  numer- 
ous small  stills  were  obliged  to  give  way  before  public  opinion 
and  pay  the  tax,  or  else  put  their  com  and  rye  to  some  other 
use. 

To-day  whiskey  is  manufactured  in  large  quantities  in 
the  county,  but  instead  of  the  little  stills  on  every  farm,  the 
ugly  buildings  of  a  modern  distillery  disfigure  the  banks  of 
the  Antietam,  in  the  neighborhood  of  one  of  its  old  bridges. 


chapter  III 

The  Making  of  Roads 

nPHE  new  century  found  a  fairly  settled  community  in  the 
*  valley  of  the  Antietam.  The  patriots  who  had  left 
their  farms  to  fight  in  the  Revolutionary  War  were  once 
more  cultivating  them.  The  county  seat  had  grown  into  an 
attractive  town.  Many  new  industries  had  sprung  up, 
and  it  became  a  matter  of  importance  to  have  good  and 
practicable  communication  with  the  world  outside  the 
valley.  The  seaports  to  the  east  and  the  great  prairie 
country  to  the  west  offered  markets  for  their  wares,  and  the 
thrifty  settlers  were  anxious  to  reach  them. 

We  have  a  pleasant  sketch  of  Hagerstown  in  the  early 
part  of  the  century,  in  a  book  of  travel  written  by  William 
Faux,  an  Englishman.  He  speaks  first  of  the  beautiful, 
fruitful  vale,  forty  miles  long  and  seven  broad,  partly  in 
Maryland  and  partly  in  Virginia,  which  is  the  only  really 
fertile  spot  which  he  has  seen  north  of  Carolina.  "Here, " 
says  he,  "I  found  a  fine  people,  trees  full  of  fruit,  evidently 
planted  as  are  many  other  choice  trees,  by  the  hand  of 
nature."  After  passing  through  Frederick  Town,  which  he 
calls  quite  English  in  appearance,  he  mentions  the  fertility 
of  the  valley  once  more,  and  says  that  it  yields  the  finest 

19 


20  ZTbe  Hntlctam 

Indian  corn  he  has  yet  seen,  and  is  the  best  wheat  land 
in  America,  and  has  the  best  farms  and  farmers  in  the  land. 

Crossing  the  mountain  he  comes  down  into  the  valley  of 
the  Antietam,  and  thus  describes  the  town:  "We  supped 
and  slept  at  Hagers-Town,  a  market  town,  with  three 
Dutch  gothic  churches,  adorned  with  tall  spires,  and  a  good 
courthouse.  This  town  is  highly  delightful,  and  almost 
surrounded  by  small  mountains,  the  scenery  is  beautiful, 
and  both  in  and  around  an  air  of  grandeur  prevails;  except 
indeed  at  our  tavern,  where,  though  it  is  Sunday,  all  is 
smoke  and  fire,  and  Bacchus  is  god. " 

Like  all  travellers  of  that  day  he  complains  of  the 
wretched  condition  of  the  roads,  and  says  that  one  must 
have  nerves  of  iron  and  brass  to  survive  a  stage  journey 
through  the  country.  Every  variety  of  discomfort  was 
endured.  On  the  mountains  were  stumps  and  rocks,  steep 
declivities  and  dangers  of  every  sort.  In  the  valleys  they 
stuck  deep  in  the  mud.  The  crossings  of  the  streams  were 
dangerous.  The  limestone  ridges  between  the  mountains 
had  nothing  done  to  smooth  their  roughness.  The  traveller 
was  bumped  and  tossed  about  till  he  was  black  and  blue; 
and  sometimes  thrown  out  altogether  at  the  risk  of  his 
bones,  when  the  stage  turned  over  in  some  specially  bad 
part  of  the  road. 

The  tendency  of  the  times  was  still  to  move  westward. 
Faux,  who  was  an  observer  of  men  as  well  as  countries, 
says,  "The  American  has  always  something  better  in  his 
eye  farther  West.  He  lives  and  dies  on  hope."  Tales  of 
the  western  country  continued  to  unsettle  men,  and  create 
an  atmosphere  of  unrest.  The  constant  temptation  was 
to  sell  out  and  move  on.     It  is  therefore  much  to  the  credit 


^be  flDaking  of  1Roat>0  21 

of  the  people  of  the  Hagerstown  valley  that  they  set  them- 
selves to  making  a  permanent  community,  and  in  the  in- 
dustries which  sprang  up  so  thickly  along  the  Antietam, 
there  was  something  to  keep  the  restless  spirits  from 
fretting  at  the  chain. 

One  of  the  most  prominent  men  of  the  day  was  Nathaniel 
Rochester,  who  afterward  founded  the  town  of  Rochester 
in  the  State  of  New  York.  He  was  a  man  of  many 
interests,  and  while  he  lived  in  Hagerstown  he  owned  a 
flouring  mill,  and  had  an  interest  in  a  rope  walk,  and  a  nail 
factory.  He  held  the  various  offices  of  Judge  of  the 
County  Court,  Postmaster,  and  Sheriff,  and  contrived  to 
make  frequent  trips  to  Kentucky  and  New  York,  to  look 
after  other  interests  in  those  States.  He  was  the  first  Presi- 
dent of  the  Hagerstown  Bank,  and  there  his  portrait  can  be 
seen  to-day,  done  in  pastel.  It  shows  a  handsome  man, 
with  a  fine  sensitive  face,  and  rather  poetic  expression.  He 
wears  a  drab  coat  and  light  blue  stock,  and  there  is  some- 
thing very  winning  in  his  serious  look.  He  moved  to  New 
York  State  in  the  early  part  of  the  new  century,  with  his 
family,  but  not  before  he  had  made  a  strong  impression  on 
the  community  which  he  was  leaving.  He  had  always 
taken  a  great  interest  in  public  improvements,  and  he  threw 
^11  the  weight  of  his  influence  in  the  scale  to  help  on  the 
serious  movement  which  began  at  this  time,  for  better  roads. 

The  opening  up  of  the  Antietam  valley  by  fine  turnpike 
roads  was  the  direct  result  of  the  building  of  the  great 
National  Road  to  the  West.  This  road  began  at  Cumber- 
land, in  Maryland,  and  went  from  thence  to  the  Ohio  River. 
It  then  became  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  have  a 
good  road  from  Baltimore  to  Cumberland,  so  that  direct 


22  JLl)c  Bntietam 

communication  might  be  established  between  the  port  of 
Baltimore  and  the  Ohio.  In  i8 17  an  act  was  passed  author- 
izing a  company  to  build  a  turnpike  road  from  Hagers- 
town  to  the  Conococheague  Creek.  It  was  the  first  link 
in  the  chain.  The  next  was  the  turnpike  road  from  Balti- 
more to  Hagerstown. 

In  18 19  the  road  to  the  west  of  Hagerstown  was  built, 
and  the  Conococheague  spanned  by  a  noble  bridge  built  by 
Silas  Harry.  It  was  the  initial  bridge,  and  set  the  standard 
for  those  which  were  later  to  cross  the  waters  of  the  Antie- 
tam  at  so  many  points.  We  can  easily  imagine  how,  after 
seeing  it,  the  Commissioners  of  the  Antietam  Hundreds 
must  have  determined  to  bridge  their  stream  in  the  same 
substantial  way. 

There  was  a  very  interesting  controversy  on  the  subject  of 
the  construction  of  bridges  on  the  National  Road  in  the 
western  part  of  the  county,  which  shows  the  determination 
of  the  men  of  that  day  to  have  the  best  models  followed  in 
bridge  building. 

The  government  had  agreed  to  bridge  the  streams  with 
well  made  stone  bridges;  but  owing  to  the  expense  this 
entailed  an  effort  was  made  to  substitute  bridges  with 
stone  piers  and  a  superstructure  of  wood.  The  men  of 
Maryland  were  firm  in  their  determination  to  have 
stone  bridges  complete,  and  no  compromise.  They  be- 
lieved that  in  a  few  years  the  wood  would  rot,  and  require 
constant  repairing.  They  stood  for  stone  throughout,  with 
pointing  of  hydraulic  mortar.  The  Legislature  of  Maryland, 
they  said,  authorized  the  change  in  the  location  of  the  road 
through  the  State,  provided  the  bridges  were  all  made  of 
stone. 


^be  riDaking  of  1Roa^0  23 

John  Hoye,  of  Cumberland,  wrote  to  the  Department  at 
Washington,  "  I  am  sure  the  State  will  not  receive  the 
road  without  the  stone  bridges. "  He  referred  them  to  the 
agreement,  which  stipulated  for  "  substantial  stone  bridges, 
wherever  the  same  may  be  necessary. "  As  the  War  De- 
partment contracted  to  have  bridges  built  of  stone,  he  could 
not  report  in  favor  of  the  State  receiving  the  road  until 
permanent  stone  bridges  were  erected. 

On  the  part  of  the  government,  Brigadier-General  Gra- 
tiot wrote  that  there  was  not  enough  money  appropriated 
to  admit  of  stone  bridges,  and  suggested  that  good  wooden 
superstructures,  well  covered  and  painted,  would  last  with 
a  little  care  at  least  forty  years,  and  perhaps  longer.  The 
Secretary  of  War  approved  of  this  suggestion,  but  they  were 
held  to  the  terms  of  their  agreement.  The  Marylanders 
were  not  to  be  cajoled  into  the  belief  that  stone  piers  and 
a  superstructure  of  wood,  even  when  nicely  painted  with 
three  coats  of  white  lead,  and  with  a  shingle  roof,  would  be 
as  good  as  stone  throughout. 

Richard  Delafield  of  the  engineers  tried  his  persuasions. 
Might  they  not  be  built  with  stone  abutments  and  wing 
walls,  with  wooden  superstructures?  He  said  that  the 
bridge  over  Wills  Creek  would  cost  $15,000.00  or  more  built 
of  stone,  but  built  of  wood  it  would  not  cost  more  than 
$7000.00, 

But  no  persuasions  would  avail  to  turn  them  from  the 
agreement,  and  the  enduring  stone  was  used  throughout. 
The  result  has  justified  them,  for  after  nearly  a  hundred 
years  of  travel,  from  the  time  of  the  prairie  schooner  and  the 
Conestoga  wagon  to  the  automobile  of  to-day,  they  still  stand 
an  honor  to  their  builders  and  an  ornament  to  the  country. 


24  ZTbe  antletam 

In  1822  work  was  begun  on  the  turnpike  road  from 
Boonsboro  to  Hagerstown,  which  was  a  continuation  of  the 
Baltimore  and  Frederick  turnpike,  and  that  between 
Frederick  and  Boonsboro.  When  the  section  of  road  be- 
tween Boonsboro  and  Hagerstown  was  finished  the  Hne  of 
travel  from  the  seaboard  to  the  West  would  be  complete, 
and  through  the  valley  so  long  isolated  would  pass  the  long- 
dreamed-of  highway  to  the  "back-country." 

The  work  on  the  roads  brought  a  rough  class  of  laborers 
to  the  country.  The  same  William  Faux  whom  we  have 
quoted  above  writes  at  this  time  in  his  journal : 

"I  learn  that  travellers  to  the  West  were  last  week 
publicly  assaulted  and  plundered  by  hordes  of  labourers  at 
work  on  the  great  Western  road,  who  stopped  the  United 
States  mail  demanding  dollars  and  guineas  from  all  the 
travellers,  and  lifting  up  their  axes  to  strike  all  who  refused 
to  deliver  up  their  cash. " 

The  same  rough  class  of  laborers  when  working  on  the 
Boonsboro  and  Hagerstown  turnpike  stirred  up  a  great 
excitement  in  Funkstown  when  working  near  that  sedate 
and  peaceful  village.  On  St.  Patrick's  day  a  wag  paraded 
about  the  streets  with  a  scarecrow  in  the  likeness  of  a  Paddy. 
This  excited  the  Irishmen  so  much  that  it  led  to  a  grand 
fight.  Stones  flew,  spades  and  mattocks  were  put  to  war- 
like uses,  and  Pat-riotism  broke  out  in  full  force.  The 
Hagerstown  militia  had  to  be  called  out  to  put  an  end  to 
the  fight.  It  was  twenty-four  hours  before  complete  order 
was  restored,  and  the  affray  was  always  referred  to  as  the 
• '  Battle  of  Funkstown. " 

Another  instance  of  the  mischievous  disposition  of  the 
laborers  is  indicated  by  an  advertisement  inserted  in  the 


24 


tCbe  Butietam 


^^2  work 

)  the 

tn-  ■  ■'^• 

*  road  from 

)  to  Hag< 

was  a  c 

lion  of  the 

Baltimore    and    Fre< 

t    between 

rederick  and  Boons 

^■'   ■ 

)ad  be- 

tween 

Utc  line  of 

tTU      ' 

■  t 

•  I^te, 

anu  v.> 

"ig- 

dreajT 

Tl 

»aght  a 

of  laborers 

to  th< 

Villiam 

in  we  have 

q:- 

i 

L  week 

public 

T'-'-':  at 

work 

ed 

States            ,     The  Bridge 

at   Old 

Forge 

.dl  the 

travellers. 

refused 

to  deliver 

Thr 

Mig  on  the 

Boons  i 

ip  a  great 

excitement  iv. 

hat  sedate 

and  peaceful 

ag  paraded 

about  the  stre-i 

>{  a  Paddy. 

This  excited  ^ 

gr.'ind 

fight.    Stoaet 

ir- 

like  uses,  ant 

ihe 

Hagerstown  n 

end  to 

the  fight.    It  wa^ 

filete  order 

was  restored, 

1  to  as  the 

"  Battle  of  Fu' 

Another  in 

tion  of  the 

laborers  js  intiiLuL  „. 

-liv,.!,      ,    ., 

_:ted  in  the 

-.  ft:... 


H 


Zbc  fIDaMno  of  1Roab0  25 

Hagerstown  paper  of  that  time.  Mr.  Lloyd  offers  a  reward 
for  the  apprehension  of  an  Irishman  who  set  upon  him 
murderously  one  night  in  Funkstown,  with  intent  to  kill. 
The  Lloyds  were  the  builders  of  the  bridge  across  the  Antie- 
tam  for  the  turnpike  company,  and  it  would  seem  that  one 
of  his  laborers  tried  to  settle  a  difficulty  in  this  way.  It 
was,  perhaps,  owing  to  this  lawlessness  and  turbulence  on 
the  part  of  the  laborers,  that  in  1823  a  bill  was  presented  to 
the  Legislature,  asking  that  the  United  States  mails  should 
be  carried  in  the  daytime  only,  except  when  transported 
by  water. 

In  spite  of  all  these  difficulties  and  dangers,  the  turn- 
pikes were  completed,  and  we  find  an  enthusiastic  account 
of  travel  over  them  by  a  writer  of  the  day.  This  was  a  Mrs. 
Royall,  of  Baltimore,  whose  account  of  her  trip  contrasts 
well  with  that  of  Mr.  Faux,  who  had  made  the  same  journey 
over  the  old  road.  This  lady  was  not  likely  to  err  on  the 
side  of  mercy,  for  in  her  comments  on  men  and  manners  she 
displays  a  sharp  spirit  of  criticism.  Her  comments  are  so 
biting  that  we  should  have  certainly  taken  her  for  a  dis- 
appointed spinster,  if  there  were  not  record  to  the  contrary. 
She  could  find  no  fault,  however,  with  the  newly  completed 
turnpike. 

"Better  horses,  or  a  better  road,"  she  writes,  "is  not 
to  be  found  in  the  world,  than  the  road  from  Boonsboro  to 
Hagerstown.  The  road  is  a  great  curiosity,  being  turn- 
piked  with  white  stone,  broken  into  small  regular  pieces,  and 
laid  as  firm  as  the  original  rock.  No  floor  could  be  more 
level;  it  was  one  entire  smooth  pavement.  It  appeared 
more  like  sailing  or  flying  rather  than  riding  over  land: 
not  a  jar  nor  a  jolt  the  whole  way. " 


26  ^be  Hntletam 

Over  this  turnpike  poured  the  tide  of  travel  between 
Baltimore  and  the  West.  A  little  later  coaches  ran  from 
Hagerstown  to  Gettysburg,  and  another  line  crossed  the 
mountain  by  Nicholson's  Gap,  and  reached  Baltimore  by 
way  of  Westminster. 

The  travel  by  road  of  that  time  has  no  parallel  to-day. 
The  railroads  many  years  ago  took  the  heaviest  class  of 
vehicles  off  it,  and  more  recently  the  trolleys  running  through 
the  farm  lands  and  over  the  mountains  have  furnished  an 
easy  way  for  the  farmers  and  their  families  to  come  to  town. 

Then  the  roads  were  filled  with  a  lively  mass  of  horses 
and  vehicles.  From  the  iron  works  came  the  great  wagons 
with  their  teams  of  six,  eight,  and  ten  mules,  gayly  decked. 
Their  owners  were  very  proud  of  them,  and  the  mules  were 
as  proud  as  all  animals  are  that  get  such  petting  and 
grooming.  It  used  to  be  a  saying,  when  something  hard  to 
move  was  under  discussion,  that  "All  hell  and  Brien's 
mules  could  n't  pull  it  out." 

The  stage  lines  which  travelled  over  the  turnpikes  were  a 
credit  to  the  country.  Any  one  who  has  read  Frederick 
Law  Olmsted's  account  of  staging  through  the  Carolinas, 
with  poor  wrecks  of  horses,  and  rattletrap  coaches  driven 
by  incompetent  drivers,  must  draw  a  very  favorable  com- 
parison. The  hauling  of  grain  to  the  mills,  of  wool  for 
manufacturing  into  cloth,  of  cotton  and  tobacco,  the  herds 
of  cattle  driven  over  the  roads,  the  gay  riding  parties  from 
Manor  to  Hall,  made  a  spirited  scene.  The  papers  began 
to  advertise  turnpike,  as  well  as  plantation,  wagons  for  sale. 

In  the  ten  years  between  1822  and  1832  six  stone  bridges 
were  built  across  the  Antietam.  One  was  at  Funkstown 
on  the  Boonsboro  turnpike ;  another  near  Sharpsburg  at  the 


Zhc  HDaliing  of  1Roa^6  27 

Omdorff  mill.  Two  were  on  the  Gettysburg  road,  one 
near  Hagerstown  and  the  other  near  Leitersburg.  One 
crossed  the  Antietam  near  Keedysville  at  Samuel  Hitt's 
farm,  and  another  at  the  Iron  Works,  below  Sharpsburg. 

The  workers  in  stone,  finding  themselves  in  demand, 
immediately  began  to  combine  for  their  own  protection, 
just  as  they  do  to-day,  and  it  is  amusing  to  see  so  early  in 
the  nineteenth  century  the  beginnings  of  trades-unions. 
Advertisements  in  the  old  newspapers  call  upon  "Brick- 
layers and  Stone  Masons"  to  meet  in  order  to  form  rates 
and  regulations  for  the  government  of  the  trade,  and  to 
prevent  misunderstandings  and  underbiddings. 

The  stone  masons  were  in  demand  to  build  something 
beside  bridges  for  the  Antietam.  A  company  was  formed 
to  make  it  more  useful  for  navigation  by  the  use  of  locks, 
so  that  merchandise  and  produce  could  be  shipped  down 
it  to  the  Potomac  River.  A  notice  was  put  in  the  papers 
offering  liberal  terms  to  such  master  masons  as  could  be 
depended  on,  and  who  would  employ  hands  adequate  to 
the  completion  of  one  or  more  locks  in  the  course  of  the 
season.  Each  lock  was  to  contain  about  four  hundred 
perches  of  stone  work.  Shortly  after  this  notice  appeared, 
there  was  an  announcement  to  the  subscribers  to  the  Antie- 
tam Loan,  that  the  first  instalment  of  one  fifth  was  payable 
at  the  Hagerstown  Bank,  and  that  a  number  of  locks  were 
already  contracted  for,  and  the  work  was  progressing. 

The  work  was  never  finished,  but  the  idea  of  making  the 
stream  navigable  did  not  die  out.  A  few  years  later  an- 
other project  was  exploited  for  uniting  the  headwaters  of 
the  Conococheague  and  the  Antietam,  and  making  the 
former  stream  navigable  as  far  as  Chambersburg.      If  it 


28  ^be  Hntlctam 

could  have  been  carried  out,  it  would  have  been  a  great 
help  to  the  farmers  and  manufacturers  of  the  valley,  but 
it  came  to  nothing,  and  the  only  water  craft  that  enliven 
the  Antietam  are  pleasure  boats  and  the  flat-bottomed 
boats  of  fishermen. 

We  find  another  evidence  of  the  increased  interest  in  the 
Antietam  about  this  time.  A  company  was  formed  for 
stocking  it  with  fish  not  native  to  its  waters.  At  a  meeting 
held  in  Hagerstown  certain  gentlemen  set  forth  their  desire 
to  introduce  fish  of  other  streams  into  the  creek.  They  said 
that  the  experiment  had  been  already  tried  in  the  States  of 
New  York,  Connecticut,  and  Vermont,  and  that  in  three 
years  they  had  an  abundance  of  fine  fish.  A  bill  was  in- 
troduced into  the  Maryland  Legislature,  and  an  act 
passed  entitled,  "An  Act  for  the  preservation  of  the 
Breed  of  Fish  in  the  Antietam  Creek."  After  stating 
that  several  species  of  fine  fresh-water  fish  not  common 
to  the  stream  were  to  be  introduced,  they  prayed  for 
the  interference  and  aid  of  the  Legislature  for  their  pro- 
tection. It  was,  therefore,  forbidden  to  fish  with  nets, 
baskets,  gigs,  or  in  any  other  manner  except  with  the 
angling  rod,  nor  should  fishpots  be  erected  as  far  up  as  the 
first  mill-dam  on  the  Antietam.  If  any  free  person  should 
whip  or  beat  the  waters  in  the  Antietam  Creek  or  its  tribu- 
tary streams,  "with  polls  or  sticks  or  other  things,"  for  the 
next  three  years,  there  was  a  forfeit  of  ten  dollars,  one  half 
of  which  was  to  go  to  the  informer  and  the  other  half  to  the 
Charity  School  Fund.  For  a  slave  the  penalty  was  not 
more  than  ten  lashes  on  the  bare  back,  unless  the  master 
or  mistress  wished  to  redeem  the  forfeit  by  the  pay- 
ment   of  ten    dollars.      Or,    if   it   had  been  done  by  the 


^be  nDaWns  of  IRoabe  29 

order  of  the  master  or  mistress,  they  should  pay  the  fine 
themselves. 

The  names  signed  to  the  petition  were  among  the  best  in 
the  community.  Colonel  Frisby  Tilghman  was  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  association,  John  Harry  its  Treasurer,  and  George 
Boerstler,  Peter  Sailes,  David  Claggett,  William  Booth, 
Edmund  McCoy,  Samuel  Hitt,  John  Nafe,  Daniel  Boerstler, 
Joseph  Graff,  George  Sheiss,  and  Seth  Lane  were  members. 
We  shall  find,  in  following  the  bridges  up  the  stream,  that  a 
number  of  these  names  were  connected  with  the  history  of 
the  stream  from  its  earliest  days. 


Chapter  IV 
The  Masonry  Arch 

nPHE  Antietam  runs  through  a  limestone  country.  The 
*  Great  Valley,  which  is  here  called  the  Hagerstown 
valley,  is  floored  with  limestone  which  swells  and  sinks 
along  the  valley  trough  with  wave-like  regularity.  Be- 
tween the  North  and  South  mountains  these  limestone 
ridges,  rising  and  falling,  give  diversity  to  the  scenery, 
making  dales  and  hollows  in  which  farmsteads  shelter 
and  villages  nestle. 

The  limestone  is  of  economic  value.  It  fertilizes  the 
fields  under  the  natural  action  of  frost  which  disintegrates 
it,  and  also  when  burned  in  kilns  and  spread  upon  them.  It 
plays  an  important  part  in  making  Washington  County 
one  of  the  richest  farming  lands  in  the  world.  It  is  also 
used  in  making  roads,  and  all  the  turnpikes  which  spread 
like  a  network  over  the  country  are  macadamized  with  it. 
It  is,  moreover,  a  good  building  stone;  when  first  quarried 
it  is  dark  blue,  and  very  agreeable  in  color,  but  by  exposure 
to  the  weather  it  becomes  a  rather  dusty  gray. 

In  every  direction  the  limestone  breaks  through  the  soil 
and  comes  to  sight,  exposing  the  naked  floor  of  the  valley. 
Around  these  outcroppings  the  plough  turns,  and  marks  the 
fields  in  fantastic  lines.     On  these  rough  islets  thickets  of 

3° 


Zhc  (H^aeont^  Hrcb  31 

flowering  shrubs  take  sanctuary,  or  groups  of  small  dark 
evergreens  give  variety  to  the  scene.  Sometimes  a  hill- 
side is  all  masses  of  shelving  rock,  with  cup-like  hollows 
holding  scarcely  enough  soil  to  give  nourishment  to  the  roots 
of  mullein  and  thistles. 

Again  it  is  seen  in  buildings  which  give  a  special  char- 
acter to  the  country.  We  come  upon  large  farmhouses, 
built  of  it  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago.  These  houses 
are  not  very  attractive  at  first  sight.  They  are  severely 
simple  stone  structures  with  thick  walls,  and  the  doors 
and  windows  are  of  the  greatest  simplicity.  Very  rarely 
does  an  eyelet  window  in  a  gable  vary  the  monotony  with  a 
touch  of  originality,  or  an  arched  doorway,  set  with  fan- 
lights, break  the  rectangular  lines.  When  these  occur  they 
are  delightful  variations,  but  for  the  most  part  the  architec- 
ture is  as  plain  and  straightforward  as  the  material.  The 
richest  farms  have  houses  of  an  almost  monastic  severity. 
Yet  when  one  becomes  accustomed  to  the  type  it  pleases 
by  its  repose  and  solidity. 

Again,  throughout  the  country,  one  can  find  small  stone 
churches.  These  are  the  houses  of  worship  for  sects 
which  stripped  religion  of  all  outward  adornment,  and  as  is 
the  faith  which  worships  within,  so  is  its  outward  manifesta- 
tion in  stone.  They  are  often  of  great  age,  gray  and  color- 
less, with  clear  glass  in  the  windows,  and  without  steeple  or 
tower.  They  express  in  stone  the  convictions  of  the  men 
who  built  them.  The  worshippers  had  fled  from  the  beauty 
which  concealed  corruption,  but  beauty  itself  they  could 
not  flee  from,  and  the  forest  trees,  the  wealth  of  wild  vines, 
and  all  the  irrepressible  loveliness  of  nature  outside  the 
walls  gratified  a  natural  instinct  in  spite  of  them. 


32  Z\)c  antletam 

Besides  the  houses  and  the  churches,  there  were  many 
delightful  little  things  built  in  stone  throughout  the  country 
by  the  early  settlers.  There  was  the  spring-house  set  under 
the  hill,  as  solidly  built  as  the  house  itself,  with  the  green- 
sward about  it,  and  perhaps  a  rose  to  trail  its  pink  bloom 
over  the  roof  in  spring.  Stone  chimneys,  wide  and  thickset, 
were  built  on  outside  the  log  houses  and  cabins.  Occasion- 
ally a  stone  projection  behind  the  chimney  itself,  with  iron 
hooks  on  either  side  and  an  iron  rod  across,  showed  where 
the  great  outdoor  feats  of  cooking  were  accomplished:  the 
apple-butter  boiling,  the  soap-making,  and  water  heated  at 
pig-killing  time. 

But  in  none  of  these  structures  is  there  any  evidence 
that  the  builder  sought  to  express  beauty,  though  often, 
especially  in  these  little  homely  things,  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  charm.  He  aimed  at  solidity  and  strength.  Fancy 
then  the  feelings  of  a  stranger  visiting  for  the  first  time  this 
limestone  country,  who  has  driven  through  its  hills  and  dales, 
seen  the  stone  walls  enclosing  the  fields,  the  oblong  house, 
the  great  stone  barn,  the  square  spring-house.  Every- 
where he  has  found  the  straight  line,  the  simplest  form. 
Only  in  the  woodlands  where  the  stone  is  untouched,  has  it 
taken  beautiful  shapes,  domed  and  arched,  painted  with 
lichens  and  delicate  mosses.  He  turns  a  hill  slope,  and 
sees  before  him  a  picture  of  great  beauty;  a  silvery  stream 
reflecting  the  blue  sky,  and  spanning  it  a  gray  bridge  of  three 
arches,  making  hoops  of  light  through  which  the  landscape 
shines  like  a  framed  picture.  In  the  dreamy  light  the  stone 
seems  ethereal,  too  lovely  to  be  substantial.  Castles  and 
abbeys  might  neighbor  these  exquisite  arches,  and  in  the 
country  through  which  he  has  just  come,  the  transition 


^be  flDasonri?  Hrcb  33 

from  the  buildings  to  the  bridges  is  like  the  change  from 
prose  to  poetry.  And  if  a  stranger  could  feel  this  emotion 
of  pleasure  at  the  first  sight  of  the  bridge,  we  can  well 
appreciate  the  feeling  of  one  whose  home  was  near  it  and 
who  would  know  that  at  a  certain  turn  of  the  road,  its 
familiar  arches  and  swelling  abutments  would  come  into 
sight. 

We  shall  have  a  better  understanding  of  their  real  value 
if  we  glance  back  over  the  history  of  stone  arched  bridges, 
and  see  through  what  vicissitudes  they  have  held  their  own. 
And  first  we  must  recognize  that  there  is  nothing  that  ap- 
peals to  men  more  powerfully  than  lasting  and  beautiful 
work  in  stone.  The  material  comes  straight  from  nature, 
and  the  use  of  it  in  enduring  works  is  the  proof  of  man's 
power.  The  Egyptians  are  still  the  wonder  of  the  world 
for  their  great  feats  in  quarrying  and  moving  vast  masses 
of  stone.  Their  massive  temples,  their  graven  figures  and 
great  tombs,  have  made  an  indelible  mark  on  the  globe. 
Yet  with  all  their  wonderful  work  in  that  material  they 
have  left  us  no  masonry  bridges.  The  character  of  the 
country  did  not  call  for  such  structures. 

The  oldest  example  of  the  masonry  arch  is  to  be  found 
in  China,  where  it  was  used  two  thousand  years  before 
the  Christian  era.  To-day  there  still  exist  arched  bridges 
of  great  antiquity  in  this  remarkable  country,  where  every 
form  of  human  knowledge  seems  to  have  been  arrived  at 
ages  ago.  In  the  western  world  it  took  centuries  to  de- 
velop the  stone  arched  bridge.  Greece,  in  spite  of  her 
noble  architecture,  never  learned  to  bridge  streams  in  this 
way.  For  a  long  time  the  nearest  approach  on  the  continent 
of  Europe  to  the  stone  bridge  now  in  use,  was  in  the  building 


34  ^be  Hntietam 

of  strong,  thick  piers  and  abutments,  which  were  con- 
nected by  a  straight  superstructure  of  wooden  planks,  or 
stone  lintels.  There  is  a  stream  on  Dartmoor  spanned  by 
what  is  called  the  Celtic  bridge,  which  is  constructed  in 
this  way. 

In  the  Romans  we  find  the  master-workers  in  stone  on 
the  continent  of  Europe.  It  was  a  material  which  suited 
their  powerful  and  dominating  genius.  They  built  high- 
ways to  last  for  ages,  and  as  they  marched  farther  and 
farther  on  their  way,  conquering  the  remotest  people  of 
their  time,  they  maintained  communication  with  Rome  by  a 
magnificent  system  of  roads  and  bridges.  In  all  the  coun- 
tries where  they  established  their  empire,  we  find  traces 
of  these  works,  but  in  a  very  different  state  of  preservation. 
In  Spain  are  perhaps  the  most  perfect  specimens  for  in 
Spain  there  was  a  people  enlightened  enough  to  give  them 
the  care  required  for  their  preservation,  and  to  appreciate 
their  grandeur  and  importance.  The  Moors,  with  their  supe- 
rior intelligence,  preserved  the  Roman  bridges  from  decay. 

The  same  thing  was  true  in  Asia  Minor.  The  Mohamme- 
dans and  the  Byzantine  rulers  valued  this  legacy  of  Roman 
occupation,  and  kept  them  in  good  condition.  In  Rome 
itself  there  was  a  special  department  for  the  care  of  bridges; 
and  those  in  the  provinces  were  under  military  protection 
as  long  as  the  power  of  Rome  lasted. 

After  the  fall  of  the  empire  a  very  different  condition 
obtained  throughout  Europe.  The  great  works  of  the 
Romans  were  neglected  and  allowed  to  fall  into  ruins. 
This  was  especially  the  case  in  France  where  Charlemagne 
gave  the  care  of  the  bridges  into  the  hands  of  the  Bishops. 
The  prelates  exacted  heavy  tolls  for  their  maintenance,  but 


Zbc  flDaeonr^  Hrcb  35 

they  neglected  the  bridges,  and  in  the  dark  middle  ages 
of  European  history  these  public  works  were  allowed  to 
fall  into  decay.  A  very  few  specimens  are  now  left  in 
France.  One  of  them,  the  bridge  at  St.  Chamas,  is  an 
example  of  a  certain  sort  of  Roman  bridge,  erected  with  a 
memorial  arch  at  either  end.  These  can  still  be  seen, 
though  in  ruins.  But  on  the  whole  the  matter  of  adequate 
crossings  for  the  streams  and  rivers  lapsed,  and  the  art 
of  bridge  building  was  almost  forgotten. 

The  story  of  its  revival  in  France  is  a  very  charming  one, 
and  essentially  French;  for  the  French  can  do  the  most 
practical  things  exquisitely,  and  the  revival  of  the  art  came 
about  in  a  way  to  please  a  poet. 

There  was  a  shepherd  boy  in  the  south  of  France,  about 
the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  named  B^nezet,  who 
was  told  in  a  vision  that  he  must  build  a  bridge  across  the 
Rhone  at  Avignon. 

It  is  a  strange  subject — the  messages  given  through  the 
ages  to  shepherds.  In  the  dawn  of  history  shepherds  left 
their  sheep  to  become  Kings  of  Egypt;  and  from  the  days 
of  the  shepherd  boy  of  Israel,  to  the  Maid  whose  sheep 
pastured  by  Domremy,  they  have  dreamed  dreams  and 
seen  visions.  To-day  the  shepherds  of  the  Sierras,  and  the 
hot  inland  valleys  of  California,  hear  voices,  but  to  no 
purpose,  and  if  they  listen  to  them  too  eagerly  they  are 
called  mad.  The  solitude  in  which  they  live  creates  a 
world  of  unrealities;  the  silly  sheep  look  up,  but  cannot 
bridge  the  vacancy  between  them  and  their  masters.  They 
are  only  fond  and  dumb;  and  to  each  of  these  words  can 
be  given  its  secondary  meaning,  to  the  one  its  old  English 
tise,  and  to  the  other  its  meaning  in  the  vernacular  of  to-day. 


36  ^be  Hntlctam 

To  a  few  men  this  discipline  of  loneliness  has  given  the 
opportunity  to  nurse  a  great  thought  to  maturity.  They 
have  heard  voices  saying,  "Save  the  kingdom, "  "Save  the 
people,"  "Save  the  poor."  Such  was  the  voice  B^nezet 
heard.  He  thought  of  the  heavy  tolls  and  burdensome 
taxes  exacted  from  the  poor  for  crossing  streams.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  a  man  ought  to  cross  a  river  as  he 
would  follow  a  road,  as  freely  as  he  would  breathe  the  air, 
so  when  the  vision  revealed  to  him  that  he  was  to  help 
them  in  this  way,  he  was  not  disobedient.  With  his  heart 
full  of  joy  he  went  to  the  Bishop  of  Avignon  and  asked 
for  his  approval  and  help.  But  the  ecclesiastical  ear 
is  sometimes  deaf  to  things  out  of  the  accustomed  rou- 
tine. The  Bishop  listened  coldly,  and  refused  to  give  him 
any  help. 

The  ardent  boy  then  went  to  the  Provost  of  the  town, 
and  here  he  found  a  listener.  This  official  gave  him  help 
and  encouragement,  and  the  great  bridge  was  begun.  It 
was  years  in  the  building,  and  before  it  was  finished  the 
shepherd-builder  died  and  was  buried  in  one  of  the  col- 
umns of  his  bridge,  and  was  afterwards  canonized,  and  is 
known  now  as  St.  B^n^zet.  But  the  building  of  the  bridge 
at  Avignon  was  not  all  that  he  accomplished.  He  estab- 
lished a  Brotherhood,  called  the  "Freres  Pontiers,"  whose 
purpose  was,  "To  build  bridges  and  keep  ferries."  It 
spread  through  France  and  Italy,  and  existed  and  worked 
for  three  centuries.  It  is  pleasant  to  know,  after  the 
coldness  of  the  Bishop  of  Avignon,  that  the  Pope  sanc- 
tioned and  encouraged  the  Brotherhood,  and  that  what  the 
lesser  prelate  had  refused  was  granted  by  the  highest  author- 
ity in  the  Church.   By  it  a  great  impulse  was  given  to  bridge 


Zbc  nDaaonr^  Hrcb  37 

building  in  France,  which  did  not  die  out.  By  the  eigh- 
teenth century  the  French  had  a  very  fine  department  of 
"Fonts  et  chaussees."  It  seems  strange  that  a  Frenchman 
should  have  been  the  architect  of  the  famous  London  bridge, 
but  it  is  a  fact.  London  bridge  was  built  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  twelfth  century,  while  the  other  bridges  over  the 
Thames,  Blackfriars  and  Westminster  were  not  erected 
until  the  eighteenth. 

All  through  rural  England  one  sees  such  bridges  as  those 
over  the  Antietam,  perhaps  not  so  perfectly  proportioned 
as  our  own.  They  were  a  matter  of  great  pride  for  Eng- 
lishmen, and  Fuller  in  his  Book  of  Worthies,  written  in 
early  1600,  makes  special  mention  of  the  bridge  at  York, 
which  had  the  highest  and  greatest  arch  of  any  in  England, 
of  the  stately  bridge  at  Bediford  with  twenty-four  arches, 
of  the  beautiful  bridge  built  by  Queen  Maud  at  Stratford 
Bow,  which  was  before  called  Stratford  but  from  having 
such  a  "fair  arch  or  bow  therein"  was  then  called  Stratford 
Bow.  According  to  him  it  was  from  the  peculiar  formation 
of  English  rivers,  too  deep  for  fords,  and  too  narrow  for 
ferries,  that  there  came  to  be  so  many  eminent  bridges, 
accounted  amongst  English  excellencies.  "Far  be  it  from 
me,"  he  says,  "to  wish  the  least  ill  to  any.  .  .  Yet  this  I 
could  desire,  that  some  covetous  churls,  may  in  their  passing 
over  waters,  be  put  into  peril  without  peril — understand 
me,  might  be  endangered  to  fright,  but  not  hurt — that  others 
might  fare  the  better  for  their  fears,  such  misers  being 
minded  thereby  to  make  or  repair  bridges  for  public  safety 
and  convenience." 

There  are  certain  features  appearing  in  some  of  the 
English  bridges  which  have  not  been  repeated  in  the  bridges 


38  Zbc  Hntictam 

of  Antietam.  One  is  the  making  of  recesses  or  nooks  in 
the  curtain  walls,  into  which  foot  passengers  can  step  aside 
and  take  refuge,  when  horses  and  vehicles  cross  the  bridge. 
They  are  made  by  an  elongation  of  the  abutment,  which 
instead  of  tapering  to  a  point  half-way  up  the  walls  of  the 
bridge,  are  prolonged  so  as  to  form  the  floor  of  these  recesses. 
The  abutment  is  thus  made  to  serve  two  purposes — the 
original  one  of  a  projection  which  advancing  beyond  the 
line  of  the  bridge  divides  the  ice  packs  and  debris  brought 
down  in  times  of  flood,  throwing  these  obstacles  off  to 
either  side  so  that  they  pass  under  the  arches,  instead  of 
piling  up  against  the  piers  of  the  bridge;  and  the  secondary 
one  of  furnishing  these  retreats  for  people  crossing  the 
bridge  on  foot. 

Although  the  bridges  over  the  Antietam  are  nearly 
a  hundred  years  old,  they  are  still  models  for  bridge  build- 
ing. They  have  withstood  the  wear  of  time,  and  travel,  of 
flood,  and  ice  packs,  and  of  war,  that  most  terrible  enemy  of 
bridges.  Above  all,  they  are  beautiful  with  a  beauty  that 
familiarity  never  lessens. 

The  objection  often  made  to  stone  bridges  is,  that  the 
action  of  the  weather  injures  them.  There  is  a  certain 
amount  of  disintegration  of  the  mortar  from  frost,  and 
from  moisture  working  in  between  the  stones.  But  this 
damao^e  can  be  repaired,  and  to  a  great  extent  prevented, 
by  keeping  the  copings  in  good  condition.  There  are  people 
who  praise  the  iron  bridge  with  its  spidery  superstructure 
and  rigid  lines,  and  its  disagreeable  vibration.  As  against 
these  it  is  good  to  quote  from  a  leading  authority  on  scientific 
bridge  building,  as  follows : 

"The  close  of  the  nineteenth  century  saw  the  metal 


Zbc  flDaeonri?  Hrcb  39 

bridge  paramount  over  the  masonry  arch,  in  all  respects 
except  judged  from  the  standpoint  of  beauty  and  durability. 
These  points  of  superiority  have  maintained  and  will  main- 
tain the  masonry  arch  prominent  among  the  bridge  types 
of  the  engineer." 


chapter  V 
The  Levy  Court 

IN  1823,  when  the  turnpike  bridge  at  Funkstown  was 
'  built,  the  affairs  of  the  county  were  regulated  by  the 
old  Levy  Court.  Under  its  authority  the  first  five  stone 
bridges  were  built.  The  contract  for  the  first,  as  well  as  for 
that  which  crossed  the  Antietam  on  the  Leitersburg  road, 
was  given  to  a  Pennsylvania  firm,  the  Lloyds.  The  Om- 
dorff  bridge,  and  that  on  what  is  now  called  the  Cavetown 
turnpike,  were  both  built  by  Silas  Harry.  The  three  now  in 
existence  bear  tablets  with  the  builders'  names,  and  the 
dates  of  construction. 

The  Hitt  bridge  near  Keedysville  unfortunately  has  no 
tablet,  but  the  records  show  that  it  was  built  by  John 
Weaver  whose  name  first  appears  in  connection  with  this 
bridge,  in  the  county  records.  His  later  bridges  were 
carefully  marked  with  tablets,  with  but  one  exception, 
bearing  not  only  the  date,  and  the  name  of  the  builder, 
but  sometimes  in  addition  the  names  of  the  Commissioners 
under  whose  authority  the  bridge  was  erected. 

On  looking  over  the  records  of  the  Levy  Court  before 
1823  one  finds  noted  the  constant  expenditure  of  sums  of 
money  to  keep  the  bridges  in  repair.  There  were  repeated 
claims  made  for  bridge  money.     What  was  spent  in  main- 

40 


Zbe  %cv^  Court  41 

taining  the  wooden  bridges  would  have  gone  far  towards 
paying  for  structures  which  would  last  for  years. 

To  quote  a  few  instances:  there  was  an  order  given  in 
181 2  to  repair  the  bridge  over  the  Antietam  at  StuU's  mill 
just  outside  of  Hagerstown,  as  it  was  almost  impassable.  In 
18 1 7  John  Booth  was  authorized  to  build  a  new  bridge  over 
the  Antietam,  at  his  mill.  He  was  allowed  $550.00  for  it, 
of  which  he  was  to  have  $225.00  for  the  first  year,  and 
$225.00  for  the  second.  In  1820  he  came  again  before  the 
Commissioners  and  was  given  permission  to  cover  his 
bridge  with  a  roof.  In  1819  the  Levy  Court  allowed  Seth 
Lane  a  certain  sum  for  repairing  the  bridge  at  Harry's  mill, 
and  another  man  was  paid  for  the  repairs  he  had  made  to 
the  bridge  at  Samuel  Hitt's  mill.  All  these  sums,  required 
season  after  season  to  repair  and  replace  the  various  bridges, 
would  have  gone  far,  in  each  instance,  towards  paying  for 
the  erection  of  a  substantial  and  permanent  stone  bridge. 

In  18 19  the  stone  bridge  over  the  Conococheague  on  the 
western  road  was  built;  and  as  one  public  work  breeds 
many,  and  as  each  wave  of  the  rising  tide  strikes  higher  up 
the  sand,  the  example  of  this  well  built  and  handsome  bridge 
set  the  standard  for  bridge  building  all  over  the  county. 
As  the  result  of  this  impulse  we  have  to-day  the  following 
bridges,  still  standing  with  but  one  exception,  across  the 
Antietam.  To  name  them  in  their  order  from  the  mouth 
of  the  stream  to  the  Pennsylvania  line,  they  are  as  follows : 

The  bridge  at  the  Iron  Works, 
The  Orndorff  bridge, 
Burnside's  bridge  on  the  battlefield, 
The  Hitt  bridge  near  Keedysville, 


42  ZTbe  Hntietam 

The  bridge  at  Delemere, 

The  bridge  at  Roxbury, 

The  bridge  at  Emmert's  mill, 

The  bridge  at  Rose's  mill, 

The  two  bridges  at  Funkstown, 

The  bridge  at  Hager's  mill, 

The  bridge  on  the  Cavetown  turnpike, 

The  bridge  at  Old  Forge, 

The  two  bridges  at  Leitersburg. 

Chronologically  they  would  be  placed  in  different  order. 
They  were  built  as  the  demands  of  travel  were  greatest. 
The  bridge  at  Funkstown,  the  first  to  be  built,  was  on  the 
through  route  to  the  West,  It  is  a  handsome  bridge  of 
three  arches,  standing  high  out  of  the  water,  with  a  look 
of  dignity  worthy  of  its  purpose  and  history. 

The  southern  end  of  the  county  next  required  a  bridge. 
Sharpsburg,  where  at  an  early  date  industries  had  been 
established,  churches  built,  and  a  thriving  settlement 
fostered,  now  asked  for  one.  The  contract  for  it  was  given 
to  Silas  Harry,  the  man  who  had  built  the  bridge  over  the 
Conococheague  on  the  western  road.  In  view  of  the  work 
done  on  that  bridge,  which  is  a  fine  one  still  in  constant  use, 
he  should  have  done  well  with  the  smaller  one.  But  for 
some  reason  the  "bridge  at  Mumma's  Mill,"  known  later 
as  the  Orndorff  bridge,  did  not  stand  the  test  of  time.  The 
piers  weakened  and  began  to  settle  before  the  high  waters 
in  the  year  of  the  Johnstown  flood.  During  that  season  of 
excessive  rain,  floods  prevailed  all  over  the  country,  the 
Antietam  was  swelled  far  beyond  its  normal  size,  and 
the  Orndorff  bridge  gave  way.     We  have  pictures  of  it, 


tTbe  Xet>i?  Court  43 

showing  a  quaint  structure,  solid  and  thickset  enough,  one 
would  think,  to  have  withstood  many  floods  and  freshets. 

These  two  earliest  bridges  were  ordered  to  be  built  in 
the  same  year.  The  bridge  at  Funkstown,  which  was  spoken 
of  in  the  records  as  the  "bridge  over  the  Antietam  at  or 
near  John  Shafer's  Mill,  on  the  public  road  past  the  Mill," 
was  completed  in  1823;  the  Orndorff  bridge  was  finished  a 
year  later.  The  Commissioners  were  empowered  to  raise 
$1800.00  for  each  of  these  bridges  by  taxation,  the  collection 
of  the  sums  to  extend  over  a  period  of  three  years.  The 
Justices  of  the  Levy  Court  were  to  make  three  annual 
levies,  but  it  was  stipulated  that  they  should  not  be  re- 
quired to  levy  "unless  upon  such  compromise  or  arrange- 
ment with  the  Boonsboro  turnpike  Company  as  they  may  in 
discretion  deem  just  and  proper." 

In  1824,  the  year  in  which  the  Orndorff  bridge  was  com- 
pleted, the  Lloyds  built  another  bridge  across  the  stream 
on  the  road  to  Leitersburg.  This  Leitersburg  road  was 
the  main  line  of  travel  to  Philadelphia,  and  was  also  a  way 
of  reaching  Emmitsburg  (the  Catholic  settlement  in  the 
mountains),  and  Taney  Town  and  Westminster.  It  led 
the  traveller  through  the  Dutch  country  of  the  Dunkers 
and  Mennonites,  a  fertile,  cultivated  stretch  of  wheat  lands, 
hemp  fields,  and  tobacco  farms;  a  most  interesting  tract, 
one  of  the  favorite  haunts  of  the  Indians,  from  whom  it  had 
been  wrested  with  difficulty. 

So  we  see  the  two  ends  of  the  county,  the  neighborhood 
of  the  Potomac  River,  and  the  Pennsylvania  line,  first  to 
follow  the  example  of  the  Baltimore  Turnpike  Company,  and 
have  permanent  stone  bridges. 

After  this,   six   years  passed  before  any  others  were 


44  ^be  Entletam 

built.  The  Commissioners  of  the  Levy  Court  must  have 
stopped  to  take  breath  after  spending  so  much  money  on 
pubHc  improvements.  To-day  the  cost  of  the  bridges  seems 
reasonably  small.  The  one  which  was  built  by  the  Lloyds 
on  the  road  to  Leitersburg  was  erected  at  a  cost  of  $2175.00. 

In  1830  another  period  of  activity  in  bridge  building 
began.  An  act  was  passed  in  1829  authorizing  the  building 
of  a  stone  bridge  across  the  Antietam  near  Mr.  Samuel  Hitt's. 
We  have  the  advertisement  for  sealed  proposals  for  this 
bridge,  with  description,  and  dimensions.  It  was  to  have 
three  arches,  the  centre  one  to  be  thirty-four  feet  span,  the 
two  outside  ones  twenty-six  feet  span.  The  piers  and 
abutments  were  to  be  five  feet  high  above  low  water  mark 
to  the  spring  of  the  arch,  the  width  of  the  bridge  sixteen 
feet  in  the  clear. 

A  good  many  improvements  were  being  made  at  the 
same  time  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mr.  Hitt's  mill.  Shortly 
after  the  bridge  proposals  were  advertised  for,  there  was 
another  notice  printed  in  the  Hagerstown  paper,  calling 
for  repairs  to  the  road  from  the  bridge  over  the  Antietam 
near  Samuel  Hitt's  to  the  summit  of  the  hill  toward  Hesses 
mill;  and  also  for  making  a  road  from  the  site  of  the  old 
bridge  near  Hitt's  to  the  same  point.  The  road  which 
crosses  the  stream  here  is  the  one  connecting  Keedysville 
and  Sharpsburg,  and  it  is  also  joined  by  a  road  coming 
down  from  the  South  Mountain  by  Crampton's  Gap. 

The  Hitt  bridge  was  built  by  a  man  whose  name  we 
encounter  for  the  first  time,  John  Weaver.  To  one  who 
studies  the  stone  arches  across  the  Antietam,  the  name  of 
John  Weaver  calls  up  interesting  and  beautiful  pictures. 
He  was  a  man  who,  out  of  his  rough  and  hard  material, 


44 


trbf^  Hntictam 


built,     ihe  Cot: 


rex 


osuA  to  1 


two  outside  o. 
abutments  were  t' 

to   the    ':r>riTU7    of   th. 

feet  in  * 

A  goo<' 
fHune  time  in  the  r 
after  the  bridge  ji 
another  notice  pr 
for  repairs  to  the  i\.i.. 
near  Samuel  Hitt's  to 
mill:  and  alio  for  m&h 


Th( 


eiK 


Levy  Court  must  have 

'^^"ig  so  much  money  on 

si  of  the  bridges  seems 

was  built  by  the  Lloyds 

it  a  cost  of  $2175.00. 

•  building 

e  building 

lel  Hitt's. 

N  for  this 

It  was  to  have 

>ur  feet  span,  the 

piers  and 

r  mark 

^)riclon   at   Roxbiiry 

the 

Shortly 

there  was 

T,  calling 

Antietam 

ifd  Hesses 

if  the  old 

which 

.  sville 

i  .'u.<i  coming 

...  s  Gap. 

whose  name  we 

To  one  who 

itietam,  the  name  of 

.    and  beautiful  pictures. 

'Ugh  and  hard  material. 


^be  %cv^  Court  45 

wrought  poems  in  stone.  There  is  a  charm  in  the  propor- 
tion, a  perfection  in  the  detail,  of  John  Weaver's  bridges, 
which  marks  them  out  for  special  notice.  The  originality 
he  shows  in  the  turns  of  wing  walls,  the  welding  of  bridge- 
way  and  roadway,  gives  a  distinct  character  to  all  his  work. 
It  is  plain  to  see  that  he  was  in  love  with  it,  and  gave  to  it 
not  only  the  mind  of  a  practical  man,  but  the  heart  of  an 
enthusiast.  No  one  could  have  made  the  series  of  bridges 
which  he  built  along  the  stream,  who  had  not  the  joy  in  his 
work  that  marks  the  artist. 

Silas  Harry  worked  with  him  in  the  construction  of  the 
Hitt  bridge,  as  is  shown  by  the  records  of  the  Levy  Court, 
which  paid  him  the  sum  of  $1413.66  as  the  agent  of  John 
Weaver.  The  place  where  they  threw  the  bridge  across  the 
stream  is  interesting  as  the  ford  by  which  Braddock's  army 
marched  on  its  way  to  Williamsport,  where  he  crossed  the 
Potomac  River. 

In  the  same  year  that  the  Hitt  bridge  was  built,  we  find 
the  proposals  advertised  for  the  building  of  a  bridge  on  the 
Cavetown  road.  The  dimensions  for  this  bridge  were  given. 
It  was  to  have  two  arches  of  thirty-six  feet  span  each,  and 
the  piers  and  abutments,  height  and  width,  were  to  be  the 
same  as  in  the  Hitt  bridge.  The  curtain  walls  of  each  bridge 
were  to  be  four  and  a  half  feet  in  height,  and  covered  with 
seasoned  plank. 

The  order  was  signed  by  Frederick  Dorsey,  as  President. 
It  was  a  name  to  appear  later  on  other  bridges,  and  was  not 
only  one  of  the  most  familiar  names  in  the  county  then,  but 
is  well  remembered  still.  He  was  a  country  doctor  of  the 
old  school,  of  calomel,  quinine,  and  bleeding;  a  personality, 
loved,  honored,  and  laughed  at  with  the  laughter  that  was  a 


46  ^be  Hntietam 

tribute.  Anecdotes  innumerable  were  told  of  him,  which 
became  legends  in  the  course  of  time.  Vehement,  untiring, 
a  bom  physician  whose  practice  took  him  over  every  road 
in  the  coimty,  it  might  be  said  that  he  knew  every  foot  of  it, 
every  stone  and  tree,  every  farmhouse  and  cabin;  and  there 
was  no  one  better  fitted  to  pass  upon  the  need  of  road 
improvement  than  old  Doctor  Dorsey. 


Chapter    VI 

The  County  Commissioners 

IN  1830  the  old  Levy  Court  was  abolished,  and  the  work 
of  supervising  and  maintaining  the  county  roads  was 
carried  on  by  the  County  Commissioners,  as  they  were  now 
called  instead  of  "Commissioners  of  the  Levy  Court." 

They  took  up  their  duties  vigorously,  and  within  three 
years  had  as  many  bridges  built  across  the  Antietam.  The 
first  of  these  was  the  stone  bridge  near  the  mouth  of  the 
creek,  at  the  old  Iron  Works  below  Sharpsburg.  It  is  a 
large  bridge  of  four  arches,  carrying  the  road  from  Sharps- 
burg to  Harpers  Ferry,  and  was  built  by  John  Weaver. 
Unfortunately  he  did  not  carry  out  the  practice  which  he 
adopted  later  of  putting  a  tablet  upon  the  bridge,  with  his 
name  and  the  date  of  its  construction.  At  the  same  time 
that  this  bridge  was  being  built,  he  had  in  hand  the  con- 
struction of  a  bridge  across  Beaver  Creek  at  Hesses  mill.  In 
the  same  year  George  Weaver  was  building  the  second  bridge 
at  Funkstown,  while  Charles  Wilson  was  replacing  the  old 
wooden  bridge  at  Delemere  with  the  present  stone  structure. 

An  order  was  also  given  to  build  a  bridge  across  the 
Antietam  at  Hagerstown.  An  uncommon  parsimony  was 
shown  in  this  case,  for  with  every  incentive  to  place  a 
bridge  at  this  point  which  should  be  an  honor  to  the  town, 
the  Commissioners  hung  fire,  advertised  for  one  of  "stone 
or  wood,"  and  finally  gave  the  order  for  a  wooden  bridge. 

47 


48  Zbc  Hntletam 

A  wooden  bridge  was  accordingly  built,  and  the  present 
stone  one  was  not  erected  until  seventeen  years  later. 

The  bridge  at  the  Iron  Works  was  undertaken  just  after 
the  new  County  Commissioners  had  examined  into  the 
condition  of  the  road  from  Sharpsburg  to  Harpers  Ferry. 
The  Commissioners  in  charge  of  these  improvements  were 
John  Grove,  John  Miller  of  J.,  and  Daniel  Piper.  How 
quaintly  sounds  the  old  distinction,  at  one  time  so  common 
in  the  South,  "John  of  J."  A  noted  character  in  San 
Francisco  in  early  days  was  always  spoken  of  as  "James 
King  of  William, "  leading  to  the  childish  belief,  in  one  case, 
that  he  was  of  royal  descent.  Even  to-day  the  custom 
survives  to  a  certain  extent  through  Maryland  and  Virginia. 

While  John  Weaver  was  occupied  with  the  work  at  the 
Iron  Works,  an  order  was  passed  authorizing  Charles 
Wilson  to  build  a  stone  bridge  at  Booth's  mill.  It  was  to 
be  twenty  feet  in  width,  and  to  cost  $2700.00.  Historic 
Delemere  was  to  have  its  stone  bridge  in  place  of  the  wooden 
one  with  a  roof,  which  had  been  kept  up  at  such  expense  in 
the  past.  No  doubt  it  had  been  one  of  those  wooden  tun- 
nels, such  as  can  be  found  to-day  throughout  Pennsylvania, 
dark  as  a  snow-shed  in  the  Sierras,  and  hiding  all  the  lovely 
water  view  from  the  traveller  as  he  crosses  the  stream. 

The  builder  of  this  bridge  appears  only  this  once  as  a 
bridge-builder  on  the  Antietam.  His  name,  however,  had 
been  in  the  records  of  the  Levy  Court  at  the  time  that  the 
Lloyds  built  the  stone  bridge  over  the  Conococheague  at 
Williamsport.  In  1829,  when  the  bridge  at  Williamsport 
was  being  built,  Charles  Wilson  was  paid  several  sums  of 
money  as  the  agent  of  the  Lloyds.  Under  them  he  learned 
the  best  traditions  of  bridge  building,  for  the  bridge  across 


Zbc  County?  Comml00ioner0  49 

the  Conococheague  at  this  point  is  unusually  fine,  and  as 
beautiful  as  any  of  those  across  the  sister  stream.  Looking 
down  from  the  cliff  in  the  village  upon  its  distant  arches, 
leading  from  shore  to  shore,  one  sees  in  imagination  the 
robber  knights  of  the  Rhine  crossing  it  with  their  spoils, 
its  high  arches  and  slender  piers  making  one  think  invol- 
untarily of  mediaeval  days. 

The  bridge  at  Delemere  is  one  of  the  most  satisfying  of 
the  series.  It  is  well  placed  at  the  turn  of  the  stream,  well 
planned  and  carried  out.  It  is  worthy  of  its  setting,  and  to 
be  that  much  was  required  of  it,  for  the  surroundings  at 
Delemere  are  romantically  beautiful.  The  bridge  was 
completed  in  1833,  and  it  is  a  pity  that  the  builder  did  not 
mark  it  with  his  name. 

The  other  bridge  built  in  this  same  year  was  the  second 
bridge  at  Funkstown,  spoken  of  in  the  records,  as  the  first 
had  been,  as  "The  bridge  at  Shafer's  Mill."  It  was  built 
by  George  Weaver,  who  may  have  been  a  brother  of  the 
other  builder  of  that  name.  It  is  almost  within  sight  of  the 
turnpike  bridge  built  by  the  Lloyds,  but  does  not  suffer  by 
comparison.  It  is  a  fine,  workmanlike  bridge,  well  built, 
well  set  in  its  place,  and  connected  deftly  with  the  rocky, 
rugged  limestone  bank  upon  which  it  abuts.  It  is  marked 
with  a  tablet  bearing  the  following  inscription: 

Geo.  Wever,  1833. 
Commissioners, 
J.  Whitmer,  Sr.,  Pres., 
D.  Claggett  R.  Wasson 

H.  Fiery  S.  U.  Hitt 

J.  Gelwicks  a.  Rentch. 


so  Zbc  Hntietam 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  name  is  here  spelled  Wever 
and  not  Weaver.  In  the  records  we  constantly  find  it 
spelled  either  way,  but  the  preponderance  is  in  favor  of  the 
latter  spelling,  and  so  it  has  been  used  throughout  for  the 
sake  of  consistency. 

The  County  Commissioners  in  1833  appointed  a  com- 
mittee for  "viewing  the  site  of  a  bridge  over  the  Antietam 
on  the  Sharpsburg  and  Maple  Swamp  road. "  After  they 
had  determined  upon  the  most  advantageous  site,  the 
contract  for  building  was  given  to  "John  Wever,  bridge- 
builder,  to  build  the  same  of  stone,  with  width  12  feet  in  the 
clear,  for  $2300.00. " 

This  bridge  is  famous  in  history  as  Burnside's  bridge, 
and  was  one  of  the  most  bloodily  contested  points  in  the 
battle  of  Antietam.  "John  Wever,  bridge-builder,"  put 
into  the  construction  of  this  bridge  all  his  perfection  of  de- 
tail, all  his  instinct  for  proportion,  and  made  of  it  a 
perfect  gem.  It  is  a  small  bridge  of  three  arches,  a  modest 
but  exquisite  structure,  making  a  picture  for  all  time.  No 
bridge  across  the  Loire  beside  the  old  chateaux,  no  arches 
thrown  across  English  streams,  can  outdo  in  beauty  this 
little  bridge  of  our  own  country.  Compared  with  many  of 
the  same  size  by  Tweed  or  Thames,  across  Dee  or  Indre, 
we  find  in  the  foreign  work  a  certain  clumsiness,  a  massive 
effect  which  this  historic  and  lovely  structure  avoids. 

At  the  place  where  it  crosses  the  Antietam  the  surround- 
ings are  pastoral  in  character,  there  is  no  ruggedness  of 
limestone  banks,  and  no  wildly  romantic  environment.  It 
is  a  bit  of  sloping  field  and  meadow,  with  hills  rising  on  one 
side.  The  stream  winds  placidly  between  its  buttonwoods 
and  willows.     In  harmony  with  these  surroundings  stands 


^be  County  Commiseloners  51 

the  rather  narrow  and  simple  bridge;  yet  so  graceful  are 
its  gray  arches,  and  so  well  wrought  out  its  whole  scheme 
of  softly  swelling  abutments  and  gently  rising  wing  walls, 
that  all  thought  of  detail  is  lost.  The  builder  must  have 
loved  it,  from  the  time  that  his  imagination  first  projected 
it  across  the  stream,  and  thought  out  its  little  individual 
touches,  until  he  saw  its  graceful  arches  reflected  in  the  calm 
water,  giving  the  seal  of  man  to  the  lonely  landscape. 
Looking  at  its  delicate  curves,  he  might  have  remembered 
the  first  meaning  of  the  word  bridge,  "a  brow."  It  is 
so  harmonious  and  beautiful  that  if  this  bridge  alone  had 
been  built  across  the  Antietam,  we  should  have  felt  proud 
of  the  work  of  the  men  of  the  last  century. 

In  the  three  years  following  the  building  of  Bumside's 
bridge,  two  more  were  thrown  across  the  Antietam,  the 
bridge  at  Rose's  mill,  and  that  beyond  Leitersburg,  on  the 
country  road  near  Strite's  mill. 

They  were  both  built  by  John  Weaver,  who  had  by  this 
time  proved  himself  a  thoroughly  competent  bridge-builder. 
In  1838  we  find  in  the  records  of  the  County  Commissioners 
the  proposals  of  John  Weaver  and  William  Grubb  to  build 
"a  stone  bridge  across  the  Antietam  at  Sharer's  Mill." 
This  is  now  known  as  Rose's  mill.  Here  we  have  a  rather 
massive  structure.  The  stream  is  wide,  and  the  mill-dam 
placed  almost  against  the  piers  of  the  bridge.  The  creek 
sometimes  spreads  at  this  point  to  a  dangerous  width,  and 
here  a  man  once  saw  his  two  sons  drown  at  high  water, 
and  was  powerless  to  help  them. 

The  mill  was  so  near  the  end  of  this  bridge  that,  with 
one  of  his  practical  touches,  deftly  used  to  make  a  feature 
in  the  bridge,  John  Weaver  threw  the  wing  wall  at  a  right 


52  Zbc  Hntletam 

angle,  widened  the  floor  of  the  bridge,  and  made  a  plat- 
form under  the  mill  wall,  so  that  wagons  might  drive  under 
its  upper  door,  and  have  their  loads  lifted  straight  from  the 
bridge  into  the  mill.  There  is  a  marble  tablet  set  in  this 
angle,  with  the  following  inscription: 

Washington  County 

Permanent  Bridge  No.  15 

Built  by  John  Weaver  for 

The  Commissioners,  viz.: 

Jacob  A.  Grove,  Prest. 

Andrew  Rentch 

Michael  Smith 

Horatio  Harne 

Samuel  Lyday 

James  Cowdy 

Eli  Crampton 

Robert  Fowler 

John  C.  Dorsey 

June  24th,  1839. 

There  is  a  great  contrast  between  this  bridge,  part  of  a 
well  travelled  road,  where  the  stream  was  wide,  and  which 
as  an  adjunct  to  a  mill  required  a  wide  roadbed,  and  the 
little  arches  thrown  across  the  stream  where  it  was  small 
and  young,  on  the  "dirt  road"  leading  from  Leitersburg 
among  the  country  farms. 

In  the  very  next  year  John  Weaver  submitted  proposals 
for  building  a  bridge  at  "Claggett's  mill."  This  is  now 
known  as  Emmert's  mill,  and  is  only  a  short  distance  from 
Rose's.  It  was  built  at  a  cost  of  $2800.00.  This  bridge 
is  so  much  a  part  of  its  surroundings,  and  there  is  so  much 


Zbc  County  Comml00loner0  53 

stone  work  in  the  neighborhood,  that  it  is  not  as  conspicu- 
ous as  the  others.  The  whole  spot  is  full  of  interest,  and 
is,  collectively,  one  of  the  most  delightful  on  the  Antietam. 
Here  we  have,  not  only  the  stone  bridge,  but  an  immense 
old  stone  mill  with  hip  roof,  three  stories  high,  and  in  a 
good  state  of  preservation.  Across  the  road  from  the  mill, 
backed  up  against  the  hill,  is  a  stone  house  of  three  stories, 
with  galleries  running  across  the  upper  stories.  The  mill- 
race  is  crossed  by  a  stone  bridge  of  one  arch,  so  good  that 
one  thinks  involuntarily  of  the  master-builder,  John  Weaver; 
and  the  county  records  show  that  a  year  after  he  finished 
the  bridge  over  the  Antietam,  he  bridged  the  mill-race  at 
Claggett's  mill  with  a  single  arch. 

The  bridge  at  Claggett's  mill  was  completed  in  1840. 
Eight  years  later  the  stone  bridge  which  stands  at  the 
crossing  of  the  Antietam  just  outside  of  Hagerstown  was 
built.  This  is  always  spoken  of  as  the  bridge  at  Hager's 
mill.  The  original  mill  which  stood  at  this  spot  antedated 
the  milling  days  of  the  Hagers,  however,  and  was  always 
known  in  the  oldest  records  of  the  county  as  Colonel  Stull's 
mill.  It  was  bought  from  him  by  the  Hagers,  and  William 
Hager  lived  in  the  old  brick  house  which  stands  across  the 
road  from  the  mill;  a  house  which  with  its  old  trees,  and 
low  stone  wall  around  the  garden  enclosure,  looks  much 
more  like  a  relic  of  old  times  than  the  bridge  or  the 
mill. 

Fifteen  years  passed  before  the  county  records  noted  the 
building  of  another  bridge  across  the  Antietam,  and  in 
connection  with  it  we  find  another  set  of  names.  In  1863 
a  stone  bridge  was  built  at  the  Old  Forge,  where  the  Hughes 
brothers  had  their  nail  factory  in  Revolutionary  times.    The 


54  ^bc  Hntletam 

name  of  the  builder  was  W.  H.  Eierly.    There  are  two 
tablets  on  the  bridge  which  read  as  follows: 

Built  in  1863 

John  Reichard,  Prest. 

Dan'l  Startzman 

Michael  Newcomer 

Lancelot  Jaques 

Wm.  Roulette 

W.  H.  Eierly,  Builder. 

Opposite  this,  on  the  other  wing  wall,  is  another  tablet 
with  this  inscription: 

Rebuilt  in  1893 

G.  C.  Snyder,  Prest. 

Jacob  Friend 

Wilfred  R.  Stouffer 

R.  F.  Stottlemeyer 

Alex  W.  Davis 

Josiah  Hill,  Builder. 

We  have  traced  the  history  of  the  Antietam  valley  from 
the  time  when  it  was  an  Indian  hunting  ground,  until  it 
became  a  valley  of  homes.  Hardly  won  in  the  beginning, 
the  courage  and  industry  of  the  pioneers  changed  it  from  a 
wilderness  to  the  rich  pastoral  country  which  we  see  now. 
The  great  obstacle  to  its  development  was  the  difficulty  and 
danger  of  travel,  which  cut  it  off  from  intercourse  with  the 


54  CN?  Hnttetam 

iiiii-iiv  %ji   Ljir  y.     There  are  two 

tAhlets  Of  i  l}h  \vs: 


S63 


Buiider 

Oi  r  tablet 


w 


;tv 


The  Second  Funkstown  Bridge 
1893 

'■■*'9   Prest. 

WtLFItBD  K 

R  ER 

JosiAH  ii  ider. 

Web.. ,.-^-^„  ....  ., .-.■..  ,.-  ....       ■■'!«  '•i!'n  » r.TVy  from 

noe  when  it  was  an  Indian  h<  cintil  it 

hecftiDe  a  vaUey  o£  homes.     Hardlj-  won  in  the  beginning, 
^^  and  industry  of  the  pioneers  changed  it  from  a 
wilder av>«  Xx)  the  rid  try  which  we  see  now. 

The  grea ;  <  *bf  *  -  -'    *  l  was  the  difficulty  and 

danger  -?  '  ■  n  interfonr*^  with  the 


lA « #  •  4'' 


JLbc  County  Commi00ioner0  55 

surrounding  country.  It  was  a  problem  which  the  early 
settlers  had  to  face,  and  when  good  and  safe  roads  were 
made,  it  seemed  as  though  the  life  of  the  country  were 
relieved  from  pressure,  and  sprang  forward  toward  new 
prosperity  and  growth. 

In  the  stone  bridges  which  their  forefathers  built,  the 
people  of  the  valley  have  inherited  legacies  which  a  more 
advanced  state  of  knowledge  has  not  taught  them  to  improve 
upon ;  and  to  preserve  them  for  future  generations  must  be 
a  matter  of  pride.  If  we  study  the  environment  of  each 
bridge,  and  the  traditions  of  its  neighborhood,  we  shall  feel 
a  still  livelier  interest  in  them,  and  a  greater  appreciation 
of  what  they  did  for  the  people  of  those  days. 

List  of  the  bridges  chronologically  arranged : 

1823.  Funkstown  turnpike  bridge, 

1824.  Leitersburg  turnpike  bridge, 
1824.     Orndorff  bridge, 

1830.  Hitt  bridge, 

1830.  Cave  town  turnpike  bridge, 

1832.  Bridge  at  Iron  Works, 

1833.  Delemere  bridge, 

1833.  Second  Funkstown  bridge, 

1836.  Burnside's  bridge, 

1839.  Bridge  at  Rose's  mill, 

1839.  Leitersburg  road  bridge, 

1840.  Bridge  at  Emmert's  mill, 
1848.  Bridge  at  Hager's  mill, 
1863.  Bridge  at  the  Old  Forge. 


56  ^be  Entletam 

SIR  JOHN  ST.  CLAIR 

BUILDER  OF  THE  FIRST  ROAD  ACROSS  THE  MOUNTAINS 


His  name  is  lost  save  in  a  brook  of  water 
That  darkly  plunges  down  a  forest  glen, 

Like  that  lean  army  pioneered  to  slaughter 
Through  lonely  shades  to  horrible  Duquesne : 
But  in  the  road  he  hewed  across  the  mountains, 

Where  Braddock  sleeps  beneath  his  wagon  wheels, 
A  living  brook  goes  on  from  Eastern  fountains, 

No  wars  arrest,  no  killing  frost  congeals. 


His  was  the  skiff  that  hardily  descended 

The  wild  Potomac  to  the  roaring  falls. 
His  were  the  floats  the  soldiery  befriended 

To  pass  the  torrent,  under  mountain  walls. 

His  were  the  bridges  over  the  Opequan 
And  the  Antietam  in  the  mom  of  time, 

Crossed  by  a  multitude  no  man  can  reckon 
To  sceneries  and  destinies  sublime. 


Behind  his  axes  formed  the  van  of  movement, 
His  picks  and  shovels  were  the  conquering  swords; 

And  in  the  rift  of  light  he  ope'd.  Improvement 
Went  single  file,  through  hidden  savage  hordes, 
Until  the  pack  mules  with  their  bells  were  merry 

Where  rolling  drums  in  vain  inspired  the  fight. 
And  sheep  and  shepherds  tarried  by  the  ferry 

That  drowned  a  host  amidst  the  battle's  fright. 


^be  Counti?  Commleetoners  S7 

High-mettled  Scot!  thine  is  no  glory  hollow: 

Shall  we  forget  thee  in  our  Westward  Ho? — 
When  thy  canoe  the  laden  barges  follow 

And  up  thy  path  the  steaming  engines  blow? 

No!  while  the  sky  the  Alleghany  arches, 
The  good  road  builder's  name  shall  be  revealed: 

Sir  John  St.  Clair's  victorious  army  marches 
Above  the  army  lost  on  Braddock's  field. 


Part  II:  The  Bridges 


59 


Chapter  VII 

Old  Sharpsburg 

nPHE  country  at  the  mouth  of  the  Antietam  is  rich  in 
■■■  historical  associations.  One  of  the  first  settlements 
in  the  valley  was  made  here.  Sharpsburg,  which  lies  near 
the  Antietam,  was  only  a  year  behind  Hagerstown  in  its 
incorporation.  It  seems  strange  that  neither  town  should 
have  grown  up  actually  on  the  banks  of  the  stream,  but 
kept  away  from  it,  leaving  it  outside  the  corporate  limits. 

So,  close  to  the  Antietam,  but  not  on  it,  we  find  Sharps- 
burg, known  in  song  and  story  for  the  great  events  which 
marched  by  it  for  three  days,  through  crowded  hours.  It 
is  a  town  which  has  achieved  its  crown  of  age;  for  as  we 
measure  time  not  by  years  but  by  the  pressure  of  living, 
these  three  days  of  Antietam  outstripped  years  of  peace, 
and  forestalling  time  have  given  to  Sharpsburg  its  place  in 
history. 

The  Sharpsburg  of  old  is  a  subject  to  linger  over,  it 
was  so  characteristic  of  the  days  when  English  rule  and 
English  customs  prevailed  in  the  colonies.  Its  founder  was 
an  English  gentleman  named  Joseph  Chapline,  who  had  the 
quality  of  leadership  to  a  great  degree,  and  was  the  ruling 
spirit  of  the  community.  He  owned  the  land  on  which 
the  town  was  laid  out.     The  tract  was  called,  "Absalom's 

6i 


62  Zbc  Hntletam 

Forest,"  and  was  thickly  covered  with  a  growth  of  hazel- 
wood  and  chinquapin.  Perhaps  it  was  so  called  because 
the  fate  of  Absalom  would  have  overtaken  any  one  who 
tried  to  ride  through  its  thickets. 

The  traditional  witchery  of  the  hazelwood  should  linger 
here.  There  is  a  little  Irish  song  one  thinks  of  when  visiting 
Sharpsburg  for  the  first  time,  beginning, 

I  went,  into  the  hazelwood, 

Because  a  fire  was  in  my  head, 
And  cut  and  peeled  a  hazel-rod, 

And  put  a  berry  on  a  thread. 

And  when  white  moths  were  on  the  wing, 
And  stars,  like  moths,  were  shining  out, 
I  dropped  the  berry  in  a  stream. 
And  caught  a  little  silver  trout. 

It  tells  how  the  fish  turns  into  a  laughing  girl,  with  apple- 
blossoms  in  her  hair,  and  how  he  follows  her. 

Through  hilly  lands  and  hollow  lands. 
To  pluck  till  time  and  times  are  done. 

The  silver  apples  of  the  moon. 
The  golden  apples  of  the  sun. 

Even  so  the  genius  of  Sharpsburg,  evoked  from  the 
hazelwood,  flits  by  "hilly  lands  and  hollow  lands,"  where 
the  hill  country  crowds  down,  fold  on  fold,  to  the  river. 

In  the  quaint  fashion  of  the  day  Joseph  Chapline  called 
the  tracts  he  acquired  by  different  names.  That  on  which 
the  first  bridge  across  the  Antietam  from  its  mouth  stands, 
is  "Little  I  thought  it."  It  was  the  scene  of  the  battle 
between  the  Catawbas  and  Delawares,  and  the  words  have 
something  of  a  prophetic  ring  in  the  light  of  after  events. 
"Little  I  thought  it!"  those  Indians  might  have  cried,  if 


Ol'b  Sbarpaburg  63 

they  could  have  seen  their  favorite  hunting  ground  turned 
into  the  facsimile  of  an  English  dale,  with  villages  and 
farms;  and  "Little  I  thought  it!"  the  fox-hunting,  sporting 
colonists  might  have  said,  if  there  had  come  to  them  a 
vision  of  white  men  in  arms  against  each  other,  and  the 
roar  of  battle  along  the  Antietam. 

In  the  earliest  days  of  the  settlement  of  this  region,  the 
two  brothers,  Joseph  and  Moses  Chapline,  came  to  it  from 
the  North,  where  they  had  spent  some  little  time  after 
leaving  England.  Joseph  Chapline  was  a  lawyer  by  pro- 
fession, but  when  he  settled  down  on  the  Lower  Antietam 
Hundred,  and  acquired  large  grants  of  land,  he  led  the  life 
of  a  country  gentleman.  To  his  first  grant,  which  consisted 
of  the  land  for  three  miles  around  Sharpsburg,  others  were 
added,  and  there  is  a  certain  flickering  light  thrown  on  the 
character  of  the  owner  by  the  names  he  gave  them.  Some 
were  sentimental,  such  as  "Love  in  a  Village,"  "Little 
Friendship,"  and  "Contentment";  others  were  of  a  sporting 
nature,  such  as  "Hunting  Ground,"  and  "Hunting  the 
Hare  " ;  and  there  were  the  purely  fanciful ' '  Little  I  thought 
it, "  ' '  Bachelor's  Delight, "  and  ' '  Loss  and  Gain. " 

Tradition  says  he  had  an  imperious  disposition,  and 
was  something  of  an  autocrat.  His  marriage  shows  that 
he  carried  matters  with  a  high  hand  if  his  will  was  crossed, 
for  he  eloped  with  his  wife,  who  was  the  daughter  of  a 
Presb3rterian  minister  living  in  Virginia.  This  Welshman 
must  have  been  a  stern  gospeller,  for  each  of  his  three 
daughters  made  a  runaway  marriage,  one  with  Colonel 
Chapline,  one  with  the  founder  of  Chambersburg,  and  the 
third  with  a  lawyer  of  prominence  named  Price.  It  is, 
therefore,  perhaps  not  to  Colonel  Chapline's  discredit  that  he 


64  ^be  Hntietam 

took  his  wife  from  her  father  in  this  way.  It  seems  rather 
the  irony  of  fate  that  the  old  minister,  who  forced  his  daugh- 
ters into  such  irregular  conduct,  should  have  gotten  into 
trouble  with  his  own  church  by  juggling  with  the  marriage 
laws  of  Virginia,  in  consequence  of  which  he  left  it  for  the 
Church  of  England. 

When  Joseph  Chapline  laid  out  the  village  of  Sharps- 
burg,  he  gave  the  land  for  a  church  to  be  built  in  it. 
The  deed  was  made  to  the  Lutherans,  with  the  considera- 
tion attached  that  he,  his  heirs  and  assigns,  should  receive 
the  yearly  payment  of  one  pepper  corn,  if  demanded  on  the 
9th  day  of  July.  There  is  a  church  in  Chambersburg 
which  is  required  to  pay  an  annual  tribute  of  a  red  rose, 
and  the  stipulation  in  the  deed  has  led  to  the  pretty  custom 
of  taking  red  roses  to  the  church  on  the  day  when  payment 
falls  due.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  if  it  was  Colonel 
Chapline's  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Chambers,  who  gave  the 
church  lot  for  this  consideration.  That,  at  least,  has  led  to 
a  pretty  custom,  but  Joseph  Chapline  must  ask  for  a  whimsi- 
cal pepper  corn,  to  which  no  possible  sentiment  could  attach. 

The  old  Lutheran  church  in  Sharpsburg  lasted  until  the 
time  of  the  Civil  War,  when  it  was  so  injured  by  shells  that  it 
had  to  be  pulled  down,  and  another  church  was  built  on  a 
different  piece  of  ground. 

His  second  gift  of  a  church  lot  was  to  a  German  Reformed 
congregation.  The  Chaplines  themselves  were  members  of 
the  Church  of  England,  but  there  were  many  Germans  in 
the  settlement,  making  up  the  two  congregations  named, 
and  a  good  many  years  passed  before  an  Episcopal  church 
was  built.  These  Germans  consisted  mainly  of  skilled 
artisans,  who  were  brought  over  from  the  old  country. 


Among  them  were  glass-blowers,  brickmakers,  potters, 
and  millers;  and  they  made  a  valuable  addition  to  the 
settlement. 

In  time  an  English  clergyman  came  to  the  village,  the 
Reverend  Benjamin  Allen,  a  man  of  gentle  and  lovable 
disposition.  He  established  there  the  first  Sunday-school 
that  was  held  in  the  country,  and  in  the  beginning  it  was 
taught  in  the  Lutheran  church.  The  Germans  were  not 
very  well  pleased  to  have  their  building  put  to  such  uses, 
but  the  Sunday-school  was  extremely  popular  with  the 
townspeople,  and  in  time  numbered  one  hundred  and 
seventy  scholars.  There  was  a  public  examination  held  in 
the  winter,  which  was  quite  an  event  in  the  village  life. 

Joseph  Chapline's  daughters,  Jane  and  Sarah,  were  warm 
friends  of  Mr.  Allen,  and  helped  him  not  only  with  the  Sun- 
day-school but  in  all  his  good  works.  Besides  the  Sunday- 
school  in  town,  they  opened  another  at  the  little  village  of 
Antietam,  which  stood  just  across  the  stream  from  the 
Iron  Works.  The  Chapline  chariot  often  crossed  the  stream 
at  this  point,  carrying  the  gentle  Mr.  Allen  and  the  ladies 
Jane  and  Sarah  Chapline  on  their  errands  of  mercy. 

After  Joseph  Chapline's  death  his  son  gave  the  land 
for  an  Episcopal  church  building,  and  his  wife,  who  was 
burdened  with  the  name  of  Mary  Ann  Christian  Abigail 
(Ferguson)  Chapline,  sent  to  England  for  a  bell,  which  she 
presented  to  the  church.  For  a  very  short  time  Mr.  Allen 
was  in  charge,  but  not  long  after  the  church  was  finished 
he  left  Sharpsburg  on  a  visit  to  England,  and  died  at  sea. 
He  was  buried  between  the  country  of  his  adoption  and  his 
native  land. 

The   Antietam   Iron   Works,   spoken  of  as  across  the 


66  Zbc  Hntietam 

stream  from  Antietam  village,  was  owned  by  Joseph  Chap- 
line,  and  was  in  active  operation  before  the  Revolution. 
Iron  ore  was  mined  in  the  neighborhood  on  both  sides  of  the 
river.  Not  far  away,  in  West  Virginia,  were  the  Ore  Banks, 
owned  by  Lord  Fairfax,  which  have  been  worked,  not 
continuously  but  with  intervals  of  idleness,  to  this  day. 
Cannon  balls  and  shells  were  cast  at  the  Antietam  Iron 
Works  for  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  in  times  of  peace  it 
turned  out  such  useful  articles  as  nails  and  kettles,  Dutch 
ovens,  stoves,  and  skillets.  At  a  later  time,  when  Rumsey 
was  making  experiments  with  his  first  steamboat,  some  of 
the  parts  for  it  were  cast  here. 

When  the  French  and  Indian  War  broke  out,  Joseph 
Chapline  left  his  home,  and  took  command  of  Fort  Frederick. 
In  a  house  in  Sharpsburg  to-day  a  copy  of  his  muster  roll 
is  preserved,  with  the  names  of  his  officers  and  men.  Brown 
ink  and  careful  handwriting  bring  back  to  us  the  days  when 
the  Indians  were  the  problem  of  the  times.  To-day  there 
are  other  problems  to  reckon  with,  but  none  that  can  arouse 
the  fierce  fighting  spirit,  the  heart-sickening  terror  which 
the  war-cry  and  the  murderous  trail  of  the  red  man  wakened 
in  the  old  days  of  Sharpsburg. 

Moses  Chapline,  whose  log  house  with  loopholes  in 
the  walls,  built  for  defence,  was  a  place  of  refuge  for  his 
neighbors,  lived  farther  up  the  Antietam,  on  his  tracts  of 
"Bounded  White  Oak,"  and  "Josiah's  Bit."  He  had  not 
the  dominating  personality  of  his  brother,  but  was  greatly 
respected,  and  made  warm  friends  among  gentle  and  simple. 
Both  brothers  entertained  distinguished  company  on  their 
estates.  Generals  Washington,  Braddock,  and  Gates  visited 
them;  and  the  Governor  of  Maryland,   General  Horatio 


©It)  Sbarpsburg  67 

Sharpe,  was  a  great  friend  of  Joseph  Chapline,  who  named 
the  town  in  his  honor. 

When  the  country  was  at  peace,  there  was  much  gayety 
and  hospitahty  in  the  village  and  the  country  around.  The 
Sharpsburg  races  drew  a  lively  crowd.  Purses  of  forty 
and  sixty  dollars  were  offered  for  three-mile  and  four-mile 
heats,  and  a  handsome  sweepstakes  for  two  miles,  so  one 
may  read  in  the  old  Hagerstown  papers.  Four  horses  must 
start  each  day  at  eleven  o'clock  a.m.,  or  there  was  no  race. 
The  rule  was  strict  for  silk  jackets  and  jockey  caps,  and 
horses  must  be  entered  on  the  day  preceding  the  race,  "or 
double  at  the  post.    Entrance  one  shilling  in  the  pound." 

The  good  old  sport  of  cock-fighting  was  as  much  in  favor 
then  as  it  is  in  the  Philippines  to-day.  One  of  the  anecdotes 
told  of  old  Doctor  Dorsey  is,  that  he  was  met  by  a  stranger 
from  Virginia  in  the  neighborhood  of  Sharpsburg,  jogging 
along  with  a  bag  slung  over  his  horse's  neck,  balanced  by  a 
jug  in  one  end  and  a  game-cock  in  the  other.  The  contents 
of  the  jug  was  harmless,  being  no  more  than  gruel  which 
his  wife  had  made  for  a  sick  woman.  But  the  game-cock 
promised  sport,  for,  said  the  old  Doctor,  "  I  'm  going  to  stop 
on  my  way  back  at  Sharpsburg,  to  meet  my  friend  Harrison 
of  Martinsburg  and  have  a  round.  And  I  shall  certainly 
whip  him,"  said  he,  "for  I  've  never  had  one  of  my  brass- 
backs  whipped  in  a  fair  fight  yet. " 

A  Hagerstown  anecdote  on  cock-fighting  can  "lay  over" 
this,  as  Br'er  Rabbit  would  say.  A  distinguished  citizen 
there  tells,  as  one  of  his  earliest  recollections,  that  while 
still  a  little  tacker  in  dresses  and  petticoats,  he  sat  upon  the 
knee  of  the  second  Doctor  Dorsey,  watching  a  chicken-fight 
with  absorbed  interest,  in  a  quiet  comer  lot.     Suddenly 


68  ^be  Hntletam 

he  was  handed  over  to  a  neighboring  lap,  while  the  Doctor 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Here,  hold  this  child,"  he  cried,  "while  I  go  up  to  the 
vestry  meeting  and  vote.  If  I  don't  that  d — d  Doctor 
McGill  will  get  himself  elected."  And  away  he  hurried  to 
St.  John's  to  save  the  situation,  getting  back  in  time  to  see 
the  finish  of  his  cock-fight. 

Fox-hunting  was  another  favorite  amusement.  It  some- 
times brought  the  hunters  into  trouble  with  the  farmers, 
and  advertisements  were  printed  bidding  "Fox  Hunters, 
Beware, "  and  complaining  of  the  damage  done  to  the  crops. 

The  Belinda  Springs  near  the  town  attracted  people 
from  the  country  round.  They  were  considered  at  that 
time  as  good  as  the  Bedford  Springs,  and  attracted  people 
from  the  North  by  their  medicinal  waters.  The  resort  was 
so  well  patronized  that  at  times  companies  of  actors  would 
come  down  to  amuse  the  guests.  A  boat  went  up  and  down 
between  the  Springs  and  Harpers  Ferry,  carrying  pleasure 
parties,  and  a  cave  near  the  Antietam,  which  was  said  to 
have  been  an  Indian  hiding  place,  was  a  favorite  picnic 
ground.  We  smile  over  the  magniloquent  wording  of  old 
advertisements.  What  newspaper  to-day  would  venture 
to  assert  of  a  resort  that  "a  numerous  assemblage  of  fashion 
and  beauty,  every  morning, 

"  skip  o'er  the  mountain  like  the  wanton  fawn." 

Yet  this  was  printed  in  all  seriousness  of  some  neighboring 
springs,  which  tried  to  rival  the  Belinda  Springs  in  public 
favor. 

The  Springs  are  now  no  more  than  a  name.  When  the 
Chesapeake  and  Ohio  Canal  was  built,  along  the  river, 


.HT 


68 


VLbc  Bntietam 


ho  was  1^">rtf^«'*'?  n-viw  ti;                  '   '  I'TIXIS 

lap,  while  the  Doctor 

Sprang 

"Here,  hold 

lile  I  go  up  to  the 

vestry  meeting 

hat  d — d  Doctor 

McGiU  will 

\'ay  he  hurried  to 

St.  John's  1 

ick  in  time  to  see 

the  finish  ' 

Fox-hui 

ement.     It  some- 

times  brou. 

vith  the  fai'uiers, 

and  adve' 

Fox  Hunters, 

Beware 

•  to  the  crops. 

The    ,. 

'*r^d  people 

from  tht 

i  at  that 

time  at 

d  people 

from  the T-^^itP ridge  at  Antietam 

Iron   Works           vas 

so  well  patron: 

vould 

come  down  to ; 

down 

1_      .                         i.1 c* 

between  the  S| 

|;ieasure 

parties,  and  a  < 

:.s  said  to 

have  been  an 

hiding   ; 

ivorite  picnic 

ground.     We 

er  the  n 

;>rding  of  old 

advertisem- 

vhat  m 

•juld  venture 

to  asse'^ 

that  "a  11. 

i.<  <.»f  fashion 

and  ^'" 

he  moui 

Yet  this  was  printed  in 

neighboring 

springs,  which  tried  to 

Springs  in  public 

favor. 

The  Springs  are  now 

riame.     When  the 

Chesapeiike  and 

Oh\n    C: 

along  the  river. 

Olb  Sbarp0burG  69 

cholera  broke  out  among  the  laborers  with  such  severity 
that  it  caused  a  panic.  The  Springs  were  deserted  by  all 
the  guests,  and  closed,  never  to  be  reopened.  Many  of  the 
laborers  who  died  of  the  epidemic  were  buried  in  a  field- 
comer  on  the  road  between  Sharpsburg  and  the  Springs, 
and  no  doubt  the  sight  of  the  crowded  graves  was  enough 
to  keep  people  from  passing  that  way. 

Charming  old  Sharpsburg,  with  its  sporting  gallants,  and 
its  lovely  women.  Where  gentlemen  gathered  the  most 
distinguished  guests  around  their  mahogany;  where  the 
wintei-s  were  spent  in  dancing  and  gaming,  and  the  summers 
in  visits  to  Springs  and  neighboring  country  houses;  when 
parties  of  young  men  and  girls  visited  about  for  a  week  at  a 
time,  waited  on  by  admiring  slaves  who  doted  on  the  quality, 
and  enjoyed  the  excitement  and  good  living  as  much  as  did 
their  masters.  It  was  a  mode  of  life  which  has  passed 
away  from  Maryland;  gay,  kindly,  and  neighborly;  just 
provincial  enough  to  be  intimate  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word,  yet  with  a  touch  of  the  dignity  which  distinguishes  an 
aristocracy.  Those  who  regret  the  good  old  days  are 
always  laughed  at,  yet  there  was  really  something  in  that 
time,  the  youth  of  Maryland,  to  make  one  echo  the  sigh  of 
the  poet,  that 

When  youth,  the  dream,  departs, 
He  takes  something  from  our  hearts, 
And  it  never  comes  again. 

One  other  bridge  must  be  mentioned  in  connection  with 
old  Sharpsburg,  the  Orndorff  bridge  which  crossed  the 
Antietam  a  short  distance  outside  the  town  on  the  road 
from   Sharpsburg    to   Boonsboro.     This  was    the    second 


70  Zhc  antletam 

bridge  built  over  the  Antietam,  the  first  to  follow  the  build- 
ing of  the  turnpike  bridge  at  Funkstown.  Unfortunately 
it  no  longer  exists.  At  the  time  of  the  high  waters,  when 
the  Johnstown  disaster  occurred,  the  piers  of  this  bridge, 
which  had  already  weakened,  gave  way,  and  the  bridge  was 
condemned  and  torn  down. 

The  oldest  mill  in  the  neighborhood  was  the  Orndorff 
mill  which  stood  just  at  the  crossing  of  the  stream.  On  a 
slight  rise  above  the  water  on  the  Sharpsburg  side,  lived 
Major  Orndorff,  or  Orendorff,  a  wealthy  man  and  a  person 
of  distinction.  It  is  said  that  he  entertained  all  the  officers 
of  the  Continental  army  who  passed  through  the  place. 
His  house  was  built  just  forty  years  before  the  mill,  and 
this  in  turn  just  forty  before  the  bridge;  things  moving  in 
Mosaic  numbers  on  the  calm  banks  of  the  Antietam. 

We  have  a  picture  of  the  old  bridge,  with  two  arches, 
and  very  much  rounded  abutments,  and  a  pretty  sweep 
of  the  wing  walls  as  they  joined  the  road.  Over  it,  in  the 
old  print,  passed  a  line  of  Conestoga  wagons,  with  hoods 
like  Shaker  bonnets.  A  thriving  trade  was  done  at  this 
mill,  which  had  a  fertile  country  to  draw  on. 

Major  Orndorff  was  a  man  of  note,  when  he  lived  at 
Sharpsburg,  but  fame  clings  to  the  memory  of  his  two 
daughters,  and  makes  the  scene  echo  to  the  names  of  Rose 
and  Mary.  Mary  Orndorff  was  a  celebrated  beauty,  so  be- 
witching that  it  was  said  no  man  could  come  within  sight 
of  her  and  not  love  her.  When  she  was  only  fifteen,  the 
handsome  and  affable  General  Gates  met  her  on  one  day, 
and  implored  her  to  marry  him  on  the  next.  There  is  a 
pretty  story  told  of  their  meeting. 

Major  Orndorff  had  twelve  children,  and  Mary  was  one 


of  the  youngest.  In  those  days,  children  were  kept  in  the 
background  instead  of  being  put  forward  as  they  are  apt 
to  be  to-day.  On  one  occasion,  however,  when  General 
Gates  was  visiting  his  friend,  the  two  gentlemen  were 
standing  in  such  a  way  that,  themselves  unseen,  they  saw 
the  lovely  ' '  backfish  "  Mary  pass  through  the  hall.  She  had 
on  a  new  cap  from  Hagerstown,  of  the  latest  fashion,  and, 
anxious  to  see  how  it  became  her,  she  went  into  the  parlor  to 
study  the  effect  in  the  pier  glass.  General  Gates,  who 
happened  never  to  have  seen  her  before,  exclaimed,  "Who 
is  that  lovely  creature?"  When  he  heard  that  she  was 
Major  Orndorff's  youngest  daughter,  he  begged  that  she 
might  be  at  the  tea  table,  so  placed  that  he  could  see  her. 
The  opportunity  completed  his  conquest,  and  the  next  day 
he  was  begging  her  to  be  his  bride.  The  little  beauty 
laughed  at  his  elderly  courtship,  and  was  much  amused  at 
being  made  love  to  by  her  father's  contemporary.  Suitors 
she  had  a-plenty,  and  youth  turning  to  youth,  she  married 
young  Jonathan  Hager,  son  of  the  founder  of  Hagerstown. 
It  is,  as  Carlyle  would  say,  "significant  of  much,"  that  he 
married  her  on  the  day  after  he  was  accepted,  too  wise  to 
risk  a  chance  by  waiting.  So  the  lovely  Mary  Orndorff 
went  to  Hagerstown  to  live  in  a  house  in  the  Square,  and 
was  left  a  widow  while  still  young  and  beautiful,  and  again 
had  many  suitors. 

One  of  them  was  the  distinguished  lawyer,  Luther  Martin, 
who  courted  her  vainly  through  several  years.  Some  of 
his  letters  to  her  were  preserved,  and  it  is  amusing  and 
touching  to  read  of  his  devotion.  In  one  alone  he  calls 
her  by  all  of  these  endearing  terms:  "My  dearest  Mrs.  H.," 
"Best   and    most    beloved   of   women,"    "My   dear,    my 


72  ^be  Bntictam 

tenderly  beloved,"  "My  charming  widow,"  "My  best 
beloved,  dearest  Woman. "  He  had  begged  that  she  send 
him  an  invitation  to  eat  his  Christmas  dinner  with  her,  but 
she  would  not  give  him  so  much  encouragement.  The 
letter  quoted  from  is  his  reply  to  her  cruel  decision.  But, 
like  a  gallant  lover,  he  sent  her  a  jug  of  choice  madeira  and 
asked,  "On  Xmas  day  at  exactly  J  past  12,  drink  a  glass 
of  the  wine  to  the  health  of  your  lover,  and  I  will  also  drink 
a  glass  to  the  health  and  happiness  of  my  mistress" ;  ending 
with  the  words,  "Bless  with  another  dear  letter.  Your 
Martin. " 

Rose  Orndorff  was  as  celebrated  in  her  way  as  her  beauti- 
ful sister.  She  must  have  been  a  frail,  delicate  girl,  for  she 
was  subject  to  cataleptic  trances,  and  when  in  this  condition 
was  believed  to  have  the  gift  of  second  sight.  People 
thought  she  communicated  with  spirits,  and  crowds  came 
from  all  the  country  round  to  see  her.  They  consulted  her 
about  the  future,  and  tried  through  her  to  get  into  com- 
munication with  their  loved  ones,  lost  through  death  or 
separation. 

We  can  imagine  many  a  widow,  left  to  endure  her  hard 
life  in  loneliness,  trying  through  Rose  Orndorff  to  get  a 
message  from  the  other  world.  Or  parents  whose  child 
had  disappeared  after  the  passing  of  a  band  of  Indians, 
distracted  with  grief,  would  seek  through  her  a  clue  by 
which  to  follow  after  the  little  one.  In  these  days,  when  a 
vast  machinery  is  set  in  motion,  and  the  most  eager  interest 
is  awakened  in  every  State  for  the  recovery  of  a  kidnapped 
child,  it  is  sad  to  think  of  the  hopelessness  of  their  search. 
The  blue-eyed  girl,  the  rosy-cheeked  boy,  passed  into  the 
silence  of  the  wilderness,  to  lose  his  identity  in  that  of  the 


©lb  Sbarpsburg  73 

race  which  carried  him  away.  The  Antietam  has  reflected 
many  of  these  little  ones,  wading  in  its  shallows,  fishing  in 
its  pools,  their  faces  browned  \)y  exposure  to  the  hue  of 
the  race  that  carried  them  captive.  It  is  told  by  a  gentle- 
men in  Hagerstown  to-day,  that  for  years,  whenever  a 
tribe  of  Indians  came  through  the  town,  his  father  would 
visit  the  camp  with  presents,  in  the  faint  hope  that  a  long 
lost  sister  might  be  found  among  them.  Every  woman's 
face  would  be  carefully  scanned  to  see  if  some  trait  might 
connect  her  with  the  lost  child ;  but  though  once  or  twice  some 
face  seemed  to  indicate  an  alien  race,  it  would  be  so  browned 
by  exposure,  and  so  moulded  by  life  with  the  savages, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  hope  that  she  had  been  found. 

So  Rose  Orndorff  exercised  her  strange  gift  for  the  help 
of  people  who  came  to  her  with  their  troubles.  We  have 
the  testimony  of  papers  of  that  day  that  people  came  in 
crowds  to  consult  the  young  girl, — "Sta.  Rosa  Vitoza,"  as 
she  was  fancifully  called.  In  her  cataleptic  state  she  was 
insensible  to  pain,  and  curiosity  of  a  more  common  order 
moved  many  of  her  guests  to  stick  pins  into  the  uncon- 
scious Rose,  to  see  if  she  would  wince.  Finally  some  of  her 
family  or  friends  were  obliged  to  stay  in  the  room,  when 
she  had  visitors,  to  protect  her  from  these  experiments. 

After  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  Mary,  Major  Orn- 
dorff moved  to  Kentucky  with  Rose.  Beside  the  constant 
fever  for  the  West  that  fired  men's  blood,  he  may  have  been 
moved  by  the  wish  to  escape  from  the  annoyances  caused 
by  his  daughter's  notoriety.  But  she  made  him  promise 
that  if  she  died  there,  he  would  bring  her  back  to  Sharps- 
burg  to  be  buried,  and  he  kept  his  word  and  laid  her  to  rest 
near  the  Antietam. 


Chapter  VIII 

The  Lower  Antietam  and  Burnside's  Bridge 

'T'HE  largest  of  the  bridges  over  the  Antietam  is  that 
■■■  which  is  situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  stream,  a  short 
distance  from  the  spot  where  it  empties  into  the  Potomac 
River.  At  this  point  the  Antietam  is  crossed  by  the  road 
from  Sharpsburg  to  Harpers  Ferry.  At  the  time  of  the 
battle  of  Antietam,  the  troops  which  came  up  from  Harpers 
Ferry  to  reinforce  General  Lee  passed  over  this  bridge,  and 
after  the  battle  a  part  of  the  Southern  forces  retreated  along 
the  same  road. 

It  is  the  only  bridge  of  the  series  which  has  four  arches, 
and  is  a  fine  structure,  picturesquely  situated  where  the 
stream  is  wide,  and  flows  over  a  rocky  bed.  The  little 
village  called  "Antietam"  on  its  northern  bank,  the  home 
of  the  laborers  employed  at  the  Iron  Works,  is  as  old  as 
Sharpsburg  itself. 

The  three  bridges  standing  within  a  short  distance  of 
each  other  from  the  mouth  of  the  creek  were  seen  for  the 
first  time  on  a  June  evening  when  the  flowers  of  spring  made 
the  country  beautiful.  The  wheat  fields  were  a  vivid  green, 
and  the  forest  trees  clothed  with  fresh  verdure.  The  coun- 
try between  Sharpsburg  and  the  Potomac  River,  through 
which  one  drives  to  reach  the  Antietam  bridge,  is  a  succes- 

74 


lower  antietam  anb  Burnelbe'e  Brlbge    75 

sion  of  rolling  hills,  which  as  the  river  is  neared  become 
steeper  and  more  crowded,  like  the  foot-hills  of  the  Cali- 
fornia coast  ranges.  In  one  place  the  mountains  break,  and 
one  looks  back  through  the  opening  to  range  on  range, 
growing  fainter  in  the  distance.  Among  these  crowded  hills 
are  farmhouses  built  on  slopes,  surrounded  by  stone  walls. 
The  houses  themselves  are  of  gray  limestone,  with  great 
barns  and  clustering  out-houses.  Little  paths  lead  through 
pasture  bars  down  steep  hillsides,  and  places  which  the 
plough  cannot  reach  are  lit  up  with  pink  redbud,  and  dog- 
wood's snow.  There  is  something  Japanese  in  the  character 
of  both  of  these,  in  the  knotted  boughs  of  the  one,  and  the 
horizontal  planes  of  the  other.  Here  and  there  on  rock 
breaks  in  hilly  fields,  dark  cedars  throw  out  in  high  relief 
their  peach-like  blossoms,  and  sheets  of  snow. 

The  country  between  Sharpsburg  and  the  river,  with 
its  "hilly  lands  and  hollow  lands,"  with  its  untamable 
bits,  and  old,  old  homesteads,  is  too  full  of  sad  memories. 
Those  stone  houses  and  barns  were  used  as  hospitals  during 
the  battle.  Behind  these  walls  along  the  roadside,  the 
soldiers  lay  and  fired  through  long  hours  before  they  were 
driven  from  their  position. 

"Kie  road  passes  a  field-comer  marked  off  with  trees. 
This  is  where  the  Irish  dead  were  buried  at  the  time  of  the 
cholera  epidemic.  So  many  laborers  on  the  canal  died, 
that  the  authorities  became  alarmed,  and  forbade  their 
burial  in  Hagerstown  or  Sharpsburg.  So  a  priest  came 
from  the  former  town  and  consecrated  this  field-corner 
and  here  were  laid  five  hundred  dead.  It  seems  incredible 
that  such  a  small  space  should  be  so  thickly  peopled.  But 
one  is  told  that  the  farmers,  ploughing  the  fields  for  their 


76  Zbc  anttetam 

crops,  gradually  lost  their  reverence  for  the  spot  by  too  much 
familiarity,  and  have  encroached  upon  it  by  degrees.  In 
any  case,  the  bones  of  the  dead  must  lie  thick  in  this  comer. 

Many  and  many  a  son  of  Con,  the  Hundred-fighter, 

In  the  red  earth  lies  at  rest. 
Many  a  blue  eye  of  Clan  Colman  the  turf  covers. 

(We  may  not  add,  "Many  a  swan-white  breast.") 

At  the  mouth  of  the  creek  is  a  scene  of  great  beauty. 
That  soft  haze  which  seems  to  linger  over  the  Potomac  in 
every  season  clothes  its  banks  with  mysterious  loveli- 
ness, and  gives  a  dreamy  indistinctness  to  the  distant 
reaches  of  water.  The  Antietam  runs  merrily  over  its 
rocky  bed,  for  once  hurried  out  of  its  slow  meandering,  as 
if  in  haste  to  join  the  river.  A  sunset  sky,  and  the  faint 
purple  tones  of  evening,  give  color  to  the  landscape.  Great 
buttonwoods  lean  out  over  the  creek,  and  elms  in  full  leaf 
stand  along  the  river  banks.  Wild  violets  make  splashes 
of  blue  along  the  fences,  and  the  stems  of  the  papaw  are 
set  with  its  curious  flowers.  At  this  stage,  not  yet  matured, 
they  are  a  vivid  arsenic  green,  with  calyx  of  brown  velvet. 
The  flower  turns  purple  when  it  comes  to  maturity,  but 
now  its  kinship  to  the  poisonous  families  of  plants  is  shown 
by  its  strange  green  coloring. 

An  aqueduct  carries  the  waters  of  the  canal  across  the 
creek  mouth,  and  just  here  is  the  old  Indian  battle-ground. 
One  is  told  that  if  he  so  much  as  scratches  the  ground, 
arrowheads  and  bones  can  be  uncovered. 

A  few  yards  up  the  stream  stands  the  large  bridge  of  four 
arches.  There  is  no  tablet  to  tell  that  it  was  built  in  1832, 
by  John  Weaver.  The  water  brawls  beneath  the  bridge,  over 
the  stones,  making  a  pleasant  sound.     On  the  opposite  bank 


76 

Zbet 

mtletam 

crops,  *j 

*nce  for  the  spot  by  too  much 

fan; 

upon  it  by  degrees.     In 

any  cas 

St  lie  thick  in  this  comer. 

y 

the  Hundred-fighter, 

tn  the  turf  covers. 
'- breast.")      - 

great  beauty. 

1  the  Potomac  in 

'"terious   loveli- 

the  distant 

over  its 

rocky  bed. 

ng,  as 

if  in  haste  to 

Burnside  s 

,^  .J                     .md  the  faint 
Bridge 

Great 

.1  leaf 

i'lashes 

>apaw  are 

yet  matured. 

they  are  a 

Ijrown  velvet. 

The  fl(. 

.cs.  U)  maturity,  but 
"  of  plants  is  shown 

the  canal  across  the 

creek  mouth, 

and  just  here 

.-ground. 

One  is  to! 

^  ground, 

arrowhead 

A  few  y<  ..iidge  of  fotu: 

arches.     Ti  built  in  1832, 

by  John  Weavt  er  brawls  bcru  ath  the  bridge,  over 

the  stones,  makir^  a  pleasant  sound     On  the  opposite  bank 


Xower  antietam  anb  Burneibe'e  Bridge    77 

are  the  ruins  of  the  Antietam  Iron  Works,  half  hidden  by 
trees,  and  lying  at  the  foot  of  a  steep,  wooded  hill. 

On  the  Sharpsburg  side  of  the  stream  is  the  old  village 
of  Antietam.  In  its  decay,  it  has  that  look  of  paralysis 
that  is  so  melancholy  in  places  where  human  beings  still 
make  their  homes.  The  houses  rise  steeply  up  the  stony 
hill.  A  high  retaining  wall  above  the  road  is  draped  with  a 
drooping  vine  called  "wild  jessamine"  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  Great  mulleins  grow  between  the  stones  of  the 
wall,  spreading  out  flat,  woolly  rosettes.  And  in  the  comer 
of  a  yard  is  a  great  clump  of  white  and  purple  lilacs,  in  full 
bravery  of  bloom  and  fragrance,  as  it  is  the  mission  of 
flowers  to  redeem  the  dreariest  places  with  their  immortal 
beauty. 

This  is  the  village  where  the  Chapline  sisters  came  with 
Mr.  Allen  each  Sunday  to  hold  Sunday-school.  Then  it  was 
a  thrifty  place.  Now  the  only  evidence  of  energetic  life 
about  it  is  in  the  swarms  of  children,  who  seem  to  multiply 
in  every  part  of  Maryland,  even  under  the  most  untoward 
circumstances. 

A  memory  attaches  to  this  spot.  On  the  morning  of  the 
1 6th  of  October,  1859,  a  man  employed  at  the  Iron  Works 
saw  a  stranger  going  past  on  the  tow-path.  He  noted  the 
tall  figure  and  singular  face,  with  no  thought  beyond  an 
idle  curiosity.  The  next  day  the  news  of  John  Brown's  raid 
startled  the  whole  country.  His  house  in  the  mountain  was 
searched  for  information  about  the  conspiracy,  and  among 
the  searchers  was  the  man  from  the  Iron  Works.  In  a 
picture  which  was  found  of  one  of  John  Brown's  sons,  he 
was  able  to  identify  the  traveller  who  had  passed  so  early 
along  the  tow-path.     A  sinister  figure  was  this  that  haunted 


78  JLbc  Hntletam 

the  Maryland  hills;  the  old  man,  with  the  manners  and 
appearance  of  a  patriarch,  coming  to  his  work  stained  with 
the  blood  of  women  and  children,  and  at  heart  what  would 
be  called  in  the  West,  simply  a  "Bad  Man. " 

The  drive  back  from  the  old  bridge  to  Sharpsburg  was 
taken  over  the  road  which  goes  through  the  battlefield. 
Along  this  road  are  many  monuments.  On  some  of  them, 
young  men  with  eager  faces  lean  forward  to  scan  the  field. 
They  call  up  too  poignantly  the  many  high-spirited  youths 
who  died  here.  It  is  a  melancholy  sight,  and  gives  rise  to 
uncanny  thoughts.  For  if  the  dead  along  the  Antietam 
should  rise,  what  numbers,  of  what  various  nations,  would 
be  here!  Indian  warriors,  painted  and  feathered;  red 
Irishmen  and  blue-eyed,  black-haired  Celts;  young  Ameri- 
cans, descendants  of  the  Cavaliers,  and  men  of  the  North; 
mercenaries  of  all  nations,  and  black  Africans  with  rolling 
eyes.  Perhaps  people  living  here  and  accustomed  to  these 
surroundings  are  as  little  affected  by  them  as  we  would  be  on 
visiting  the  pyramids;  but  one  would  think  the  ploughman 
turning  up  bones  and  bullets  in  his  furrows  would  be  too 
sharply  reminded  of  the  shortness  of  human  life,  and  of  the 
tragedies  which  took  place  on  this  ground. 

Bumside's  bridge,  the  most  famous  of  the  bridges  over 
the  Antietam,  is  a  small  bridge  of  three  arches;  but  so  perfect 
in  its  proportions  and  so  satisfying  in  its  lines,  that  it  is 
perhaps  the  most  delightful  of  the  series.  Its  narrow  road- 
way leads  from  the  lea  of  a  steep  hillside,  on  one  bank,  to 
a  low  meadow  on  the  other.  Water-willows,  like  silvery 
clouds,  follow  the  bend  of  the  stream,  and  sycamores  with 
dappled  trunks  and  broad  leaves  lean  over  the  water. 
Against  the  middle  arch  of  the  bridge  a  young  sapling 


Xower  Entletam  an&  BuruBlbe'e  Brlbge    79 

springs,  and  between  the  arches  spreads  a  fan-like  growth 
of  beautiful  green.  But  this  decorative  vine  turns  out  to  be 
the  poisonous  ivy,  too  dangerous  to  touch,  and  is  symbolical 
of  the  history  of  the  bridge,  too  bitter  to  be  closely  looked 
into. 

Below,  the  Antietam  wanders  slowly,  the  embodiment  of 
peace,  never  more  calm  in  all  its  unruffled  wanderings.  The 
trees  are  reflected  in  its  mirror-like  surface,  doubly  beautiful 
as  they  rise  above  it  or  dip  into  the  stream.  Wild  roses 
peep  from  the  thickets,  vervain  and  daisies  and  deep  blue 
thistles  grow  along  the  banks.  The  scene  suggests  no  more 
arduous  pursuits  than  following  the  fishes  up  their  cool 
retreats,  or  spilling  the  purple  juice  of  blackberries. 

The  monuments  of  the  battlefield  are  out  of  sight,  from 
this  place  beneath  the  hill.  There  is  nothing  to  remind  the 
visitor  of  the  battle  except  the  two  tablets  at  the  end  of  the 
bridge  with  the  names  of  men  who  fell  during  the  fight,  and 
on  a  distant  hill  slope  something  can  be  seen  which  looks 
like  a  low  headstone,  half  hidden  by  evergreens.  This  very 
aloofness  and  seclusion,  when  one  comes  to  know  the  story 
of  the  bridge,  makes  it  seem  all  the  more  violent  and 
shocking. 

We  must  try  to  picture  the  scene  briefly.  It  was  Sep- 
tember, and  the  fertile  Sharpsburg  country  was  in  full 
autumn  beauty.  The  fields  were  yellow  with  stubble,  the 
corn  was  ripening,  and  the  grapes  in  the  farmhouse  gardens 
turning  purple.  The  Southern  army  had  come  down  from 
the  battle  of  South  Mountain,  fought  at  the  two  gaps. 
Turner's  Gap  where  the  Dahlgren  stone  house  and  chapel 
stand  on  either  side  of  the  road,  and  Crampton's  Gap  where 
now  the  War  Correspondents'  Monument  stands  and  looks 


8o  Zl)c  Hntietam 

out  over  two  valleys  on  one  of  the  most  beautiful  views  of 
Maryland.  Hundreds  of  these  soldiers  had  marched  down 
the  road  from  Keedysville,  crossing  and  recrossing  the  Antie- 
tam  by  bridge  and  ford,  and  wading  it  waist  deep.  This 
army,  first  to  arrive,  encamped  about  Sharpsburg. 

Next  came  the  Federal  troops,  and  we  have  a  picture  of 
their  coming  described  by  General  Longstreet.  He  says 
they  began  to  appear  over  the  crest  of  the  hill  which  over- 
looks the  Antietam  creek  from  the  east.  "The  number 
increased,  and  larger  and  larger  grew  the  field  of  blue  until 
it  seemed  to  stretch  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see ;  and  from  the 
tops  of  the  mountains  down  to  the  edges  of  the  stream  gath- 
ered the  great  army  of  McClellan,  ninety  thousand  strong. 
It  was  an  awe-inspiring  spectacle,  as  this  grand  force  settled 
down  in  sight  of  the  Confederates. " 

Now  on  either  side  of  the  Antietam  the  armies  were  en- 
camped, ready  for  the  battle  which  was  to  rage  for  three 
days.  During  that  time  there  were  certain  points  where  the 
fighting  focused,  which  it  became  of  supreme  importance 
to  take  and  to  defend,  at  the  cost  of  no  matter  how  much 
life  and  blood.  One  of  these  was  the  bridge  at  the  crossing 
of  the  Maple  Swamp  road.  In  the  reports  of  the  Generals 
on  the  field,  we  find  the  simplest  and  most  concise  accounts 
of  the  taking  of  the  bridge.  General  Burnside  reports  on 
the  morning  of  the  17th: 

"I  received  an  order  from  the  General  commanding  to 
make  my  dispositions  to  carry  the  stone  bridge  over  the 
Antietam,  nearly  opposite  our  centre.  The  disposition  of 
the  troops  at  this  time  was  as  follows:  General  Crook's 
Brigade,  and  General  Sturgis'  Division  immediately  in 
front  of  the  bridge  and  the  ford.    The  nth  Connecticut 


Xower  antietam  ant)  Burnalbe'e  'BxlbQc    8i 

thrown  out  as  skirmishers  (Col.  Kingsbury),  General  Rod- 
man's Division  with  Scammon's  Brigade  in  support  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  below  the  bridge,  and  General  Wilcox 
and  General  Benjamin's  battery  in  the  rear.  Detailed 
General  Crook's  Brigade  to  make  the  assault,  and  General 
Rodman  was  directed  to  cross  over  at  the  ford  below  the 
bridge  and  join  on  to  the  left  of  the  command  which  was  to 
be  thrown  over  the  bridge."  (This  was  at  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning).  "They  were  driven  back.  He  then  com- 
manded the  batteries  on  the  left  to  concentrate  their  fire 
on  the  woods  above  the  bridge  at  all  hazards.  At  one  o'clock 
they  commenced  their  charge  and  carried  the  bridge  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet.     Our  loss  at  this  place  was  fearful. " 

General  Sturgis's  report  says:  "I  now  received  orders 
from  General  Burnside  to  move  still  farther  to  the  left  and 
front,  and  across  Antietam  Bridge.  The  bridge  was  strongly 
defended  by  the  enemy,  and  the  approaches  to  it  were  ex- 
posed to  a  murderous  fire  from  behind  breastworks.  The 
importance  of  carrying  it  without  delay  was  impressed  upon 
me  by  General  Burnside.  I  went  in  person  to  the  vicinity  of 
the  bridge  and  ordered  the  2nd  Maryland,  Colonel  Duryea, 
and  Colonel  Griffin,  6th  New  Hampshire,  to  move  over  at 
a  double-quick  and  with  bayonets  fixed.  They  made  a 
handsome  effort  to  execute  this  order,  but  the  fire  was  so 
heavy  on  them  before  they  could  reach  the  bridge  that 
they  were  forced  to  give  way,  and  fell  back. " 

Again  General  Sturgis  reports:  "Orders  arrived  from 
General  Burnside  to  carry  the  bridge  at  all  hazards.  I  then 
selected  the  51st  Pennsylvania  and  the  51st  New  York. 
They  started  on  their  mission  of  death  full  of  enthusiasm, 
and  taking  a  route  less  exposed  than  the  regiments  which 


82  ^be  Hntietam 

had  made  the  effort  before,  rushed  at  a  double-quick  over 
the  slope  leading  to  the  bridge,  and  over  the  bridge  itself 
with  an  impetuosity  which  the  enemy  could  not  resist,  and 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  were  planted  on  the  opposite  bank 
at  one  o'clock  p.m.,  amid  the  most  enthusiastic  cheering 
from  every  part  of  the  field  from  where  they  could  be  seen. " 

The  last  word  was  from  General  Burnside,  who  says, 
"Receiving  an  order  from  the  commanding  General  to  hold 
the  bridge,  and  the  heights  above  at  any  cost,  this  position 
was  maintained  until  the  enemy  retreated  on  the  morning  of 
the  19th. " 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  rage  of  battle  spent 
itself  most  fiercely  about  two  objects  peculiarly  characteris- 
tic of  the  Antietam  country,  the  old  stone  bridge,  and  the 
Dunker  church. 

A  trip  to  the  lower  Antietam  would  have  been  incomplete 
without  a  visit  to  the  site  of  the  Orndorff  bridge.  The  ruins 
of  the  mill  are  on  the  bank  of  the  creek,  low  down  by  the 
water.  Having  been  told  that  there  was  a  tablet  in  the 
wall  of  the  mill  with  the  date  of  building,  it  was  carefully 
searched  for ;  but  even  at  the  cost  of  wading  through  beds  of 
nettles  which  bristled  in  defence  at  the  foot  of  the  old  stones, 
and  creeping  around  where  the  creek  bank  shelved  away, 
no  such  tablet  could  be  found  on  any  side  of  the  ruins.  As 
it  was  said  to  have  been  there  two  years  before,  some  indigna- 
tion was  felt  at  the  vandalism  which  could  tear  down  old 
ruins  to  make  a  barnyard  wall,  and  even  take  an  "original 
document"  to  build,  perhaps,  into  the  home  of  the  numerous 
little  pigs  that  went  squealing  about  the  neighborhood. 
However,  on  turning  to  leave  the  place,  the  stone  was  dis- 
covered lying  on  the  ground  and  almost  covered  by  weeds. 


Xower  Hntletam  ant)  Burnel^Ca  Bridge    83 

The  inscription  was  made  out  with  some  difficulty,  and 
was  as  follows: 

A.  Q.  1782  Sep.  5. 
C.  O.  M.  O. 

The  beginning  was  without  doubt  meant  for  A.D.,  but  the 
man  who  cut  the  letters  made  some  curious  mistake.  The 
numbers  of  the  date  were  carefully  carved  on  the  stone, 
each  one  decorated  with  a  dot  in  the  centre,  but  the  initials 
which  stand  for  Christian  and  Mary  Orndorff  were  much 
more  rudely  cut,  and  must  have  been  done  by  a  different 
hand. 

At  a  short  distance  from  the  mill  is  the  iron  bridge.  One 
sees  with  regret  the  chain  of  stone  bridges  broken  by  this 
ugly  modern  interloper.  The  stone  bridge,  built  here  by 
Silas  Harry,  used  to  be  known  as  "The  Middle  Bridge," 
though  it  would  be  hard  to  say  now  what  it  was  "middle" 
to,  or  midway  between.  The  old  names  cling  long  after 
they  have  lost  their  real  significance,  and  one  can  still  hear 
the  bridge  on  the  Cave  town  turnpike  spoken  of  as  "The 
New  Bridge,"  though  it  was  built  in  1831.  Like  the  man 
in  the  Bab  Ballads,  of  whom  it  was  sung,  "They  called  him 
Peter,  people  said,  because  it  was  his  name, "  so  undoubtedly 
the  New  Bridge  once  was  new,  and  the  Middle  Bridge  a 
landmark  between  two  points. 

On  either  side  of  the  water  are  the  ruins  of  the  stone 
walls,  and  hitched  to  them,  as  ungainly  as  a  cow  to  a  carriage, 
is  the  ugly  iron  bridge.  It  bears  the  inevitable  tablet,  tell- 
ing of  the  passage  of  the  troops  over  the  stone  bridge  which 
stood  here  at  the  time  of  the  battle.  The  country  about 
Sharpsburg  is  thickly  sown  with  these  historical  tablets. 


84  ^be  Hutletam 

and  one  cannot  go  in  any  direction  without  being  reminded 
of  the  fight. 

It  was  interesting  to  hear  two  old  residents  of  the  county 
speaking  of  the  Orndorff  bridge,  and  of  the  present  iron  one. 
They  remembered  the  Middle  Bridge  well,  and  said  that  the 
foundations  were  not  well  laid.  The  piers  began  to  sink, 
and  gradually  from  having  been  a  bridge  with  a  good  rise 
in  the  middle,  it  became  quite  level.  Then  came  the  famous 
forty  days  of  rain,  always  spoken  of  in  Maryland  as  "the 
Johnstown  flood,"  as  if  the  waters  of  that  far-away  Pennsyl- 
vania town  came  down  bodily  to  swell  the  streams  of  the 
Hagerstown  valley.  All  the  creeks  were  swollen  beyond 
their  usual  size,  the  Antietam  rose,  and  the  pressure  on  the 
weakened  piers  became  so  great  that  the  bridge  was  con- 
demned and  torn  down,  to  make  way  for  this  utilitarian  and 
unsightly  structure. 

Discussing  the  relative  merits  of  the  stone  and  iron 
bridge,  these  gentlemen  said  that  the  idea  of  economy  was 
a  mistaken  one,  and  instanced  one  in  their  neighborhood.  A 
proposal  was  made  to  build  a  stone  bridge  for  five  thousand 
dollars,  but  the  Commissioners  though  best  to  have  a 
cheaper  one  of  iron.  This  had  to  be  constantly  repaired,  and 
a  few  years  after  it  was  built,  it  was  partly  replaced  at  a  cost 
of  fifteen  hundred  dollars  beyond  the  original  sum  spent  on 
it;  while  a  stone  bridge,  more  expensive  in  the  first  place, 
would  have  lasted  practically  forever,  with  very  slight  cost 
for  repairs.  Indeed  one  never  hears  the  iron  bridges  well 
spoken  of  by  the  country  people  who  have  to  drive  over  them. 
They  complain  of  the  disagreeable  vibration  felt  in  crossing, 
and  say  they  are  always  glad  to  be  safely  over  them. 

Going  back  to  Sharpsburg  for  supper,  one  realized  how 


Xower  antietam  ant)  Burneibe'e  Bribge    85 

typical  it  was  of  the  old  Maryland  villages,  with  its  leafy 
streets  and  mellow  houses.  Some  of  these  are  of  stone, 
thick-walled  and  gray ;  others  of  warm  brick  showing  cosily 
behind  the  fresh  green  of  the  trees.  Lilacs  and  roses  were 
blooming  in  profusion,  making  the  air  fragrant.  Bits  of 
lawn,  and  creepers  softened  the  outlines  of  the  somewhat 
severe  dwellings.  Here  an  arched  doorway  would  give  a 
house  distinction ;  or  a  square  porch  with  colonial  pillars,  and 
settles  built  in  on  either  side,  invited  to  gossip  in  the  summer 
evenings. 

There  is  a  charm  about  these  quiet  places,  far  from  noisy 
factories  and  the  rush  of  traffic.  But  the  feeling  they 
awaken  is  something  like  that  which  Emerson  expressed 
toward  the  storied  beauty  of  cathedrals  and  their  priests, 

Not  for  all  my  faith  could  see, 
Would  I  that  cowled  churchman  be. 
Why  should  the  vest  on  him  allure 
Which  I  could  not  on  me  endure? 

The  quaint  old  villages  fascinate  us  with  their  repose,  but 
we  must  go  back  a  hundred  years  in  spirit  to  fit  into  their 
life  again. 

Supper  was  taken  at  the  hotel,  an  old  square  house  with 
wide,  arched  doorway  set  with  fanlights,  and  large  airy 
hall  running  through  the  middle  of  it.  Around  the  walls 
was  an  old-fashioned  chair-rail,  and  the  spacious  dining- 
room  with  its  high  ceiling  was  a  survival  of  the  old  style  of 
Maryland  home.  It  was  inevitable  that  General  Lee 
should  have  held  a  council  of  war  in  its  parlor,  and  that 
memories  of  that  great  hero  should  have  pervaded  the  last 
hours  of  this  day  at  Sharpsburg. 


Chapter  IX 

Keedysville  and  the  Hitt  Bridge 

D^TWEEN  Sharpsburg  and  Keedysville  is  a  hill  cotintry 
•'— '  where  the  mountains  advance  and  retreat.  Seen  on 
an  autumn  day  of  mist  and  weeping  showers,  they  seem  to 
withdraw  at  times  to  infinite  distances.  The  trees  along 
the  creek  are  like  phantoms  half  veiled  in  a  pale  blue  haze. 
They  shimmer  through  the  mist,  pure  gold  of  buttonwood, 
red-gold  of  sassafras,  scarlet-red  of  maple,  and  russet  oaks. 
Here  one  all  pale  yellow  cheats  one  with  the  illusion  of  a 
gleam  of  sunshine.  Under  them  the  slow  water,  opaque 
and  green  as  jade,  slides  without  a  sound.  In  the  dim  light 
evergreens  stand  like  emblems  of  mourning  and  when 
across  their  gloomy  deeps  of  color  the  wild  grape  throws  its 
wreaths  of  scarlet,  and  the  Virginia  creeper  its  crimson 
sprays,  we  have  a  picture  of  fire  and  charred  embers,  in  all 
the  melancholy  beauty  of  autumn. 

There  are  many  old  stone  houses  on  the  farms;  and  log 
cabins  with  tiny  yards  have  the  unmistakable  look  of 
mountaineers'  homes,  with  the  forest  coming  down  to  the 
back  door.  In  this  region  lived  Moses  Chapline,  and  near 
Keedysville  is  the  Red  Hill,  of  Indian  memory. 

At  a  certain  point  along  the  road,  across  a  ravine,  is  a 

86 


little  cabin  with  flat  roof  and  windows  high  up  in  the  wall, 
looking  more  like  the  living  end  of  a  canal  boat  than  a  dwel- 
ling. It  is  smartly  painted  white  with  red  trimmings,  and 
hanging  boldly  out  on  the  side  is  a  sign,  "The  Halfway 
Spider."  The  individual  who  tenants  this  shell,  like  the  snail, 
moves  with  his  house  on  his  back.  The  whitewashed  boards 
of  the  lower  part  conceal  the  wheels  of  a  wagon,  which  is  the 
Spider's  dwelling.  Curious  must  be  the  nature  of  this  man, 
who  lives  on  wheels,  moving  about  a  circumscribed  route 
in  this  district.  Without  too  apparent  means  of  livelihood, 
the  Spider  weaves  his  way  about  from  farm  to  farm,  and  is 
cautiously  spoken  of  by  his  acquaintances.  Curious  too  is 
the  fact  that  the  father  of  this  roving  character  lived  in 
much  the  same  way,  and  gave  himself  the  name  of  "Spider, " 
which  his  son  has  continued.  It  leads  to  speculations  as  to 
possible  gipsy  blood,  which  would  stir  for  the  open  and 
irregular  ways  of  supporting  life,  such  as  these  two  Spiders, 
father  and  son,  have  chosen. 

At  Keedysville  the  limestone  is  more  in  evidence  than  in 
any  other  locality.  It  crops  up  everwhere  through  the  soil, 
and  is  used  for  bams,  houses,  and  walls.  In  the  village  the 
sidewalks  are  made  of  big  flagstones,  and  along  one  of  these 
walks  a  dainty  sight  was  seen.  Between  the  cracks  and 
crevices  of  the  low  retaining  wall,  for  quite  a  distance  up 
the  street,  was  a  continuous  growth  of  small  ferns  and 
Kenilworth  ivy,  an  exquisite  bit  of  greenery,  springing 
spontaneously  in  the  village  street. 

Retaining  walls  hold  up  the  yards  above  the  street, 
and  quaint  stone  steps  lead  up  to  perched  gardens.  Flagged 
paths  wander  in  curves  and  angles  up  the  sloping  yards, 
around  to  back  doors.     Stone  spring  houses  and  bake  ovens, 


88  tTbe  Hntletam 

with  low  walls  and  hipped  or  conical  roofs,  are  common,  and 
it  is  delightful  to  see  such  solid  bits  of  masonry  for  the 
little  uses  of  daily  life.  In  one  place  a  heavy  stone  chimney 
built  outside  the  house  has  two  projections,  jutting  out  on 
either  side,  to  hold  an  iron  bar,  from  which  kettles  can  be 
swung  for  outdoor  cooking. 

Near  the  edge  of  the  village  is  a  small  stone  house,  strong 
and  thick  walled.  Under  the  eaves  a  tablet  bears  the  in- 
scription, 

"Built  by  John  Weaver, 
June  ist,  1835." 

Below  it  is  a  window  shaped  like  a  slice  of  melon,  and 
then  the  door  and  windows  of  the  lower  story.  Iron  braces 
are  in  the  wall  near  the  door.  In  the  early  days  of  Keedys- 
ville  this  was  used  as  a  schoolhouse,  and  after  passing 
through  various  uses,  as  Sunday-school,  and  church,  it  is  now 
a  dwelling.  The  hills  fall  away  behind  it,  so  that  from  the 
back  there  is  a  wide  outlook.  And  next  to  living  the  simple 
life  after  the  manner  of  the  Halfway  Spider,  one  might 
imagine  it  in  this  tiny  stronghold,  backed  by  space,  looking 
on  the  village  street  before  and  over  the  wide  reaches  of 
valley  and  stream  behind. 

The  road  to  the  Hitt  bridge  follows  the  windings  of  the 
Little  Antietam  through  the  hills.  The  steep  hill  slopes  are 
thickly  wooded  with  pines  and  cedars,  elms,  locusts,  mul- 
berries and  sycamores,  hazel  bushes  and  papaws.  Between 
are  great  outcropping  masses  of  limestone,  of  a  fine  gray, 
mossed  with  delicate  greens,  or  hung  with  creepers.  Here 
and  there  the  road  is  protected  by  stone  walls,  where  it  is 
most  narrow  and  winding.  In  a  lonely  place  above  the 
creek  is  a  limekiln,  on  the  edge  of  the  dark  wood.    These 


88 


(The  Bndetam 


with  low  walls  and  hipped  <«•  con 
it  is  delightful  to  see  such  sdi 

vjr  side,  t; 

swung  for  ov 

Near 
a 
scription, 


^-e  copimon,  and 

•lasonry  for  the 

■  stoiie  chimney 

jutting  out  on 

I  kettles  can  be 

e  house,  strong 
ars  the  in- 


Below  it  is  a  window  -s' 
then  the  door  and  windc 
are  in  the  wall  near  the  dopr 
ville   this  was  used  aS  a  s< 
through  various  uses,  as  S" '  ■ 
a  dwelling.     The  hills  fall  .^w 
back  there  is  a  wide  otitlonk. 
life  after  the  mann<.. 
imagine  it  in  this  tiny  strong: 
on  the  village  street  before 
y  and  stream  behinr^ 
he  road  to  the  H^'+^ 
Antietam  thro' 

b. 

arc  . 

mosseu  avji  aeiicaie  gr* 

and  tfe»*re  the  road  i«^  » 

most  narr  v»v  and  w 

creeiv 


A'-M 


Bridge 


aelon,  and 

n  braces 

<iys- 

p>assing 

;.  is  now 

rom  the 

lo  simple 

,  one  might 

,  space,  looking 

^s'ide  reaches  of 


.M-.wi;r,frs  of  the 

>pes  are 

IS,  mul- 

Between 

>ne,  of  a  fine  gray, 

pers.     Here 

,.  .1,0. XL  ..«.xxj,  where  it  is 

a  lonely  place  above  the 

of  the  dark  wood.    These 


Ikeeb^eptlle  anb  tbe  Ibitt  Bribge         89 

limekilns  stand  in  lonely  places,  and  one  can  understand 
how  they  would  appeal  to  the  sombre  imagination  of 
Hawthorne,  and  inspire  one  of  his  most  gloomy  tales. 

Along  this  shaded  road  a  human  flower  danced  into  view, 
so  sweet  that  it  lighted  up  the  solitary  way.  A  wagon 
turned  aside  for  us,  driven  by  a  boy  in  blue  jeans,  with  a 
shock  of  corn-colored  hair;  and  perched  on  the  seat  beside 
him  was  a  girl  of  twelve,  dainty  as  a  little  queen,  with 
white  dress  and  snowy  starched  and  embroidered  bonnet, 
her  starry  eyes  full  of  laughter,  and  her  cheeks  like  wild  roses. 
It  was  the  vision  of  a  moment,  seen  and  passed,  but  so 
charming  that  it  was  like  an  event  in  the  drive. 

The  Hitt  bridge  is  a  fine  one,  standing  in  a  lonely  spot, 
and  seems  rather  to  waste  its  charm  there.  It  has  one 
unusual  feature,  the  middle  arch  is  decidedly  higher  than 
the  others,  and  this  gives  it  an  interesting  character.  A 
steep  road  comes  to  it,  straight  down  the  hill,  once  more 
Braddock's  road,  very  characteristic  in  this  spot;  not  reach- 
ing the  stream  by  a  winding  and  easy  descent,  but  plunging 
down,  uncompromising  and  inconvenient.  It  is  not  much 
used  now  that  the  bridge  can  be  approached  by  an  easier 
grade.  Here  there  was  one  of  those  natural  fords,  first  used 
by  deer  and  bear,  afterwards  by  Indians,  and  later  by  the 
white  settlers.  A  Maryland  author  has  celebrated  these 
earliest  river  crossings  in  his  poem,  "The  Packhorse  Ford. " 

The  wild  crane  stalked  the  ford  for  pike,  and  stood  a  guide- 
post  man  to  guide : 

The  river  in  more  shallow  tones  expressed  the  shallows  it  might 
hide. 

So  when  the  hunted  outlaw  came,  he  saw  the  trodden  ramparts 
slant, 


90  Zhc  antietam 

The  trail  go  down  and  reappear,  like  ends  of  rainbow  consonant. 
He    told  the    peltry  hunter    where    to    guide    the    woods-lost 
emigrant. " 

The  bill  for  erecting  a  bridge  near  Mr.  Samuel  Hitt's 
farm  passed  both  houses  of  the  Legislature  in  1829,  and 
in  1832  this  beautiful  stone  bridge  was  finished.  There 
was  in  the  neighborhood  a  mill,  known  as  the  Hitt  mill. 
It  was  partly  destroyed  once  by  fire,  and  now  only  the 
lower  story  of  the  present  mill  remains  of  the  original 
structure. 

The  family  which  gives  its  name  to  the  Hitt  bridge 
is  one  whose  history  brings  us  in  contact  with  one  of  the 
most  interesting  phases  of  life  in  the  early  days  of  Maryland, 
for  the  three  brothers,  Martin,  Daniel,  and  Samuel  Hitt,  were 
of  that  brave  company,  the  circuit  riders  of  the  Methodist 
Church. 

The  Hitt  family  was  of  German  origin,  and  settled  in 
Virginia,  but  the  cords  which  drew  the  brothers  to  this 
spot  by  the  Antietam  were  those  of  love.  There  is  still 
standing  along  the  stream  an  old  stone  house  where  lived 
three  sisters,  Margaret,  Ann,  and  Sarah  Smith,  who  were 
loved  by  the  three  brothers.  In  a  graveyard  on  the  hill 
beside  the  house  lies  buried  Daniel  Hitt,  who  was  called 
"the  friend  of  Bishops,"  a  distinguished  minister,  and  the 
loved  companion  of  Bishop  Asbury. 

Maryland  held  a  prominent  place  in  the  early  history  of 
the  Methodist  Church  in  America.  One  of  the  first  Metho- 
dist preachers  on  the  continent  was  Robert  Strawbridge, 
who  built  a  log  church  in  Frederick  County.  When  the 
New  York,  New  Jersey,  Philadelphia,  and  Virginia  circuits 
had  but  one  minister  to  travel  over  each,  Maryland  had 


1kee^p0ville  a^^  tbe  Ibltt  Brlbae         91 

four ;  and  Baltimore  early  had  its  little  Methodist  church  in 
Lovely  Lane. 

The  fundamental  principle  of  the  Methodist  Church  was 
personal  religion,  the  direct  accountability  of  man  to  his 
Maker.  It  found  congenial  soil  in  this  new  country,  where 
men  held  the  same  attitude  toward  temporal  power.  Hav- 
ing broken  with  the  old  conventions  in  the  political  world, 
they  were  ready  for  the  strong  personal  note  in  religion. 
Having,  from  the  circumstances  in  which  they  lived,  fallen 
into  religious  indifference,  they  needed  a  powerful  influence 
to  drag  them  back.  The  circuit  riders  might  have  been 
called  hunters  of  souls.  With  tireless  zeal  they  travelled 
through  the  country,  doing  their  best  to  rescue  men  from 
the  ignorance,  and  often  the  degradation,  which  was  the 
result  of  their  isolated  lives  on  the  frontier.  They  fought 
against  the  evils  of  drink,  which  had  a  strong  hold  on  men 
who  led  outdoor  lives,  in  places  where  whiskey  was  cheap 
and  easy  to  get;  and  they  fought  as  hard  against  slavery, 
which  they  believed  to  be  not  only  morally  wrong,  but  an 
economic  evil  to  the  country  which  supported  it. 

Into  the  rude  lives  of  the  mountaineers,  through  the 
forests  and  plains  of  the  West,  rode  the  circuit  preachers  of 
the  Methodist  faith,  bringing  with  them  the  Bible  and  hymn- 
book,  and  leaving  them  for  the  people  to  study.  In  this 
way,  not  only  religion,  but  the  noblest  English,  and  the 
wonderful  histories  of  old  times,  were  brought  to  families 
whose  lives  had  been  barren  of  any  such  influences.  From 
the  forests  of  Maine  to  the  pine  hills  of  the  Carolinas  they 
journeyed,  doing  incalculable  good.  They  won  the  respect 
of  the  frontiersmen  by  the  spirit  and  courage  with  which 
they  endured  persecution.     They  were  stoned  and  beaten, 


92  Zl)C  Hntietam 

torn  from  their  horses,  kicked  and  abused,  imprisoned 
and  cursed ;  but  they  dragged  their  sore  bones  into  the  saddle 
again,  and  sang  hymns  as  they  rode  through  the  wilderness; 
and  in  the  end  they  won  their  enemies  to  a  hearing. 

In  1 77 1  Francis  Asbury  came  to  America.  He  was  the 
son  of  an  English  gardener,  and  like  St.  Francis  he  loved 
out-of-door  things,  and  little  children.  He  crossed  the 
ocean  with  his  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  and  a  few  works 
on  religion.  To  him  might  have  been  said  what  John 
Wesley  wrote  to  another  preacher  who  was  setting  out  for 
our  shores: 

"I  let  you  loose,  George,  on  the  great  continent  of  Amer- 
ica. Preach  your  message  in  the  open  face  of  the  sun,  and 
do  all  the  good  you  can. " 

Francis  Asbury,  following  the  hard  road  of  the  Methodist 
preacher,  rose  to  the  highest  honors,  and  a  dear  friend  of  his 
was  Daniel  Hitt. 

We  have  a  description  of  Daniel  Hitt  at  this  time.  He 
was  tall,  and  courteous  in  manner.  His  eyes  were  blue,  and 
his  long  fair  hair  lay  on  his  shoulders.  His  mind  was  calm 
and  clear,  and  he  was  very  neat  in  his  dress.  It  is  a 
pleasant  picture  of  the  earnest  and  intellectual  preacher, 
who  roughed  it  with  the  most  rugged  of  the  circuit  riders. 

His  pastorate  extended  over  Virginia,  Maryland,  and 
Pennsylvania.  He  travelled  from  Baltimore  to  Pittsburg, 
Redstone,  Clarksburg,  and  Frederick,  and  knowing  as  we 
do  the  condition  of  roads  in  those  days,  we  can  appreciate 
the  fatigue  of  such  journeys.  In  1807  he  was  chosen  to  ac- 
company Bishop  Asbury  on  his  tour,  and  during  this  one 
trip  they  travelled  five  thousand  miles,  from  Maine  to  the 
Carolinas,  and  through  the  AUeghanies,   following  Brad- 


1keet)^6\)iUe  anb  tbe  Ibitt  Brit)Ge         93 

dock's  trail.  During  this  long  and  toilsome  journey,  they 
worked  together  compiling  the  new  hymn-book,  which  was 
to  be  printed  and  distributed  through  America.  Many 
a  long  hour  in  the  saddle  was  beguiled  by  this  work,  so 
congenial  to  the  two  studious  minds. 

Bishop  Asbury  loved  Hitt,  and  when  they  were  apart  he 
wrote  him  many  letters,  which  the  younger  man  copied  into  a 
book,  and  in  this  way  they  have  been  preserved  to  the 
Methodist  Church  of  to-day.  The  affections  of  the  two  were 
firmly  knit  by  this  journey,  and  when  it  was  over  Hitt  was 
sent  to  New  York  to  be  the  assistant  editor  of  the  Book 
Concern  there,  no  doubt  superintending  the  printing  of  those 
hymns  which  he  and  Bishop  Asbury  had  worked  over 
together.  After  spending  several  years  in  New  York,  he 
went  back  to  his  work  of  preaching  over  a  large  area  of 
country.  Once  more  he  accompanied  a  Bishop  on  his 
annual  round.  This  time  it  was  Bishop  McKendree,  of 
whose  visit  to  Hagerstown  we  read  in  old  newspapers.  Only 
a  few  more  years  of  work  were  left  to  him. 

In  all  this  work  he  had  not  been  hampered  by  ties  of 
human  affection,  for  Sarah  Smith,  whom  he  had  hoped  to 
marry,  died  early.  She  had  moved  with  her  family  to 
Kentucky,  where  he  was  to  come  for  her;  but  the  short  love 
story  had  a  sad  ending,  and  he  was  left  free  to  devote  him- 
self to  his  exacting  labor. 

There  is  a  pathetic  story  told  of  his  last  sermon,  preached 
in  Greencastle.  It  is  said  that  while  he  was  preaching  he 
walked  up  and  down  among  the  congregation,  as  was  his 
custom  when  he  was  much  moved,  speaking  to  them  person- 
ally. His  text  was  from  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  Jeremiah, 
where  those  are  spoken  of  whose  feet  stumble  upon  the  dark 


94  tTbe  Bntietam 

mountains,  where  the  light  is  turned  to  the  shadow  of  death. 
"My  soul  shall  weep  in  secret  places,"  ran  the  words  of  the 
text,  and  "mine  eyes  shall  weep  sore  and  run  down  with 
tears."  He  preached  so  powerfully  that  his  hearers  were 
very  much  affected,  and  a  little  girl  broke  away  from  the 
congregation,  ran  to  her  mother  who  was  sitting  in  a  tent, 
and  throwing  her  arms  around  her  neck  cried  and  told  her 
that  Brother  Hitt  was  going  to  die. 

Already  his  feet  stumbled  on  the  dark  mountains,  for 
immediately  after  he  sickened  with  typhoid  fever,  and  his 
nephew  Samuel  Hitt  came  and  took  him  away,  back  to  the 
old  stone  house  by  the  Antietam,  and  nursed  him  there  till  he 
died.  There  he  lies  buried  in  the  walled  graveyard,  who 
was  one  of  the  consecrated  souls  of  those  rough  days. 

Martin  Hitt  married  Margaret  Smith,  and  Samuel 
married  Ann.  All  of  the  family,  both  Hitts  and  Smiths, 
moved  to  different  parts  of  the  West.  The  house  by  the 
Antietam  came  by  inheritance  to  Samuel  Hitt,  the  son  of 
Martin.  It  was  this  Samuel  who  took  his  uncle  back  to  the 
old  place  to  die,  and  who  later  superintended  the  building 
of  the  stone  bridge,  several  years  before  he,  too,  was  fired 
with  the  western  fever,  and  left  the  old  place  in  Maryland 
forever. 

The  country  in  the  neighborhood  of  Keedysville  and  the 
Hitt  bridge  has  its  historical  tablets,  telling  of  the  passage 
of  the  troops  through  this  region.  It  is  impossible  to  get 
away  from  these  reminders  of  the  war.  There  is  a  memory 
of  Keedysville,  belonging  to  those  days  after  the  battle  of 
Antietam,  which  brings  before  us  vividly  the  emotions  of 
that  time — the  story  told  by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  of  his 
journey  in  search  of  his  wounded  son.     The  kindly  little 


1keet)i20vUle  anb  tbe  Ibltt  Brlbge         95 

Doctor,  whose  name  is  a  synonym  for  gentle  humor,  and  a 
certain  radiant  irony,  is  not  generally  associated  in  one's 
mind  with  tragic  things. 

He  has  told  the  story  of  the  trip:  how  the  news  of  the 
battle  reached  Boston,  and  the  message  that  his  son  was 
among  the  wounded.  The  telegram  which  filled  him  with 
anxiety  and  dismay  said, ' '  Wounded  in  the  neck,  though  not 
seriously."  He  at  once  set  out  to  find  the  sufferer.  He 
narrates  with  the  greatest  precision  and  detail  the  incidents 
of  the  journey.  His  sensitive  brain,  made  keener  by  suf- 
fering which  he  tried  to  suppress,  was  alive  to  every  little 
incident,  and  every  characteristic  of  his  fellow-travellers. 
He  describes  the  country  through  which  he  passed,  and  the 
plump  Maryland  women,  whom  he  likened  to  ducks,  in 
contrast  to  the  thinner  women  of  the  North. 

In  Frederick,  in  Middletown  and  Boonsboro,  wherever  a 
house  or  barn  was  turned  into  a  hospital,  he  went,  sometimes 
in  the  dead  of  night,  asking  always  the  same  question  of  the 
rows  of  men  lying  on  the  straw.  Were  there  any  Massachu- 
setts men  among  them? 

He  roused  weary  doctors,  who  were  trying  to  snatch  a 
little  rest  from  their  terrible  labors.  In  time  he  reached 
Keedysville,  which  he  described  as  a  torpid  little  vil- 
lage, with  his  one  question,  which  he  had  travelled  five 
hundred  miles  to  ask,  still  on  his  lips,  Where  was  Captain 
Holmes  ? 

For  a  long  time  no  one  could  tell  him,  as  there  were  some 
thousands  of  wounded  men  scattered  about  the  villages  and 
farms.  Finally  some  one  directed  him  to  a  little  log  cabin, 
plastered  and  whitewashed,  where  he  had  been  only  the  day 
before.     But  the  woman  of  the  house  said  that  the  Captain 


96  Zl)c  Bntietam 

had  gone  into  Hagerstown  in  a  milk  cart,  in  fairly  good 
condition  and  spirits. 

He  might  have  gone  on  to  Hagerstown,  but  he  felt  sure 
that  his  son  would  go  at  once  to  Philadelphia  to  stay  with 
friends.  He  therefore  decided  to  go  back  to  Frederick,  and 
from  there  to  Philadelphia,  avoiding  the  passage  through 
Hagerstown,  which  he  knew  was  in  a  state  of  confusion. 
To  while  away  the  time  before  starting  he  drove  to  the 
outskirts  of  the  battlefield,  and  forded  a  wide  creek  in 
which  soldiers  were  washing  their  clothes,  which  he  con- 
jectured must  be  the  Antietam. 

A  great  disappointment  met  him  in  Philadelphia,  for  the 
Captain  was  not  there,  and  had  not  been  heard  from.  He 
went  back  to  Harrisburg,  and  boarded  every  train  which 
came  in  from  Maryland,  looking  for  his  son.  At  last  he 
heard  of  one  which  would  come  through  from  Hagerstown 
and  waited  for  it  with  the  greatest  anxiety.  It  slid  in  long 
after  the  time  it  was  due,  and  he  walked  through  it  on  his 
apparently  hopeless  errand.  There  on  a  front  seat  was  the 
wounded  Captain,  who  had  flitted  before  him  as  the  will-o'- 
the-wisp  before  a  belated  traveller. 

They  met  like  Anglo-saxons,  without  any  show  of  emo- 
tion on  either  side.  Had  Doctor  Holmes  gone  on  into 
Hagerstown,  instead  of  turning  back  to  Frederick,  he  would 
have  found  his  son,  well  cared  for,  in  an  old  house  built  and 
lived  in  by  Nathaniel  Rochester,  set  in  an  old  garden,  with 
immortal  box  trees,  and  as  happy  as  a  man  could  be  under 
the  circumstances. 


Chapter  X 

The  Bridge  at  Delemere 

THE  most  romantically  situated  of  the  bridges  is  that 
which  crosses  the  Antietam  at  Delemere.  The  creek 
makes  one  of  its  great  loops  here,  between  high  hills  which 
cut  off  the  view  in  every  direction.  At  this  secluded  bend 
of  hill  and  stream  it  is  as  lonely  as  in  the  earliest  days  of  the 
settlement  of  the  valley,  and  one  might  imagine  that  the 
red  man  had  just  passed  over  the  hilltops,  to  make  way 
for  the  white  races.  The  steep  slopes  rising  from  the  water 
are  densely  wooded,  and  in  their  groves  the  birds  sing  like 
mad,  as  joyous  as  if  nothing  had  ever  come  to  frighten 
them  away,  and  they  were  the  real,  legitimate  owners  of 
this  beautiful  spot. 

Before  it  reaches  Delemere  the  road  passes  over  a  strange 
rocky  ridge  called  the  Devil's  Backbone.  This  high  and 
narrow  spur  lies  between  the  Antietam  and  Beaver  Creek, 
separating  them,  and  forcing  them  to  flow  for  quite  a  dis- 
tance within  hail  of  each  other  before  they  can  join  their 
waters.  It  rises  between  the  two  creeks,  abrupt  and  brist- 
ling with  boulders.  The  top  of  the  ridge  is  so  narrow  that 
there  is  no  more  than  room  on  it  for  the  road,  and  in 
places  is  so  contracted  that  two  teams  cannot  pass.  If  the 
sides  were  not  thickly  covered  with  a  growth  of  bushes, 

7  97 


98  Zhc  Hntletam 

which  add  to  its  apparent  width,  one  would  have  some 
uncomfortable  moments  in  driving  over  it. 

From  the  top  is  seen  a  curious  sight — ^the  creeks  on 
either  side  flowing  in  opposite  directions.  On  the  one 
hand  the  waters  of  Beaver  Creek  glide  with  you,  on  the 
other  those  of  the  Antietam  slip  behind.  The  view  from 
the  height  is  delightftil,  the  hillsides  are  clothed  with  the 
delicate  foliage  of  deciduous  trees  and  dark  cedars,  and 
lighted  everywhere  by  the  exquisite,  fiery  flush  of  the  redbud. 
These  redbud  thickets  along  the  Antietam  no  pen  nor 
brush  can  paint  in  the  actual  glory  of  their  vision;  and  if 
any  one  should  think  this  praise  exaggerated,  let  him  drive 
through  the  country  when  they  trail  their  clouds  of  glory 
over  the  hills,  and  seem  to  typify  all  the  joy  and  rapture 
of  awakening  spring,  as  it  bursts  the  bands  of  winter. 

At  the  foot  of  the  Devil's  Backbone  the  streams  come 
together,  and  just  at  their  junction  is  the  bridge  over  Beaver 
Creek.  It  is  a  humpbacked  bridge  of  one  arch,  with  a  high 
hoop  like  the  bridges  of  tea  boxes  and  fans,  simple  and  solid 
and  so  quaint  that  it  is  the  most  delightful  thing  imaginable. 
The  hoop  rounds  itself  in  the  water,  which  reflects  like  a 
mirror  the  velvet  grass  and  airy  branches  about  it,  making  a 
picture  which  it  is  impossible  to  look  at  without  pleasure 
Young  hazel  bushes  spring  up  against  its  gray  walls,  and 
even  a  few  small  ones  from  the  earth  on  the  bridge  itself. 

The  Antietam  now  makes  a  great  turn,  and  the  road 
twists  imder  the  hill.  The  hillsides  are  too  steep  for  culti- 
vation, so  there  is  nothing  to  break  the  wildness  of  the  scene. 
Another  sudden  turn  brings  one  to  the  Delemere  bridge, 
with  its  three  beautiful  arches  ref)eating  themselves  in  the 
water.     Beside  the  stream  are  the  ruins  of  the  old  mill. 


98 


Zbe  Bntietam 


which  add  to  its  app. 
uncomfortable  moment 

From  the  t 
cither  side   n^  v. 


idth,  one  would  have  some 

ing  over  it. 

a  curious  sight — ^the  creeks  oa 

'^e  directions.     On  the  one 

"^k  glide  with  you,  on  the 

!)ehind.     The  view  from 

les  are  clotlied  with  the 

»  and  dark  cedars,  and 

'•y  flush  of  the  redbud. 

<am  no  pen   nor 

ir  vision;  and  if 

d.  let  him  drive 

uds  of  glory 

and  rapture 


the  height  is  dv 

delicate  foliage  of 

lighted  ever; 

These  redbua 

brush  can  paint  ^i^    i.^  av, 

any  one  should  think  this  j^i 

through  the  country  when  the 

over  the  hills,  and  seem  to  typif 

of  awakening  sp^j^g  %^  ltjburst|  ^^^,^ 

At  the  foot  ot  the  Devu's  Backbone  tlK  streams  come 
together,  and  just  at  their  junction  is  the  bridge  over  Beaver 
Creek.     It  is  a  humpbacked  bridge 


of    n^  arrh.  with  a  high 

[iie  and  solid 

;  imaginable. 

fleets  like  a 

'  it,  making  a 

mt  pleasure 

y  walls,  and 

Ige  itself. 

n,  and  the  road 

e  too  steep  for  culti- 

liak  uie  wildness  of  the  scene. 

./Oe  to  the  Delemere  bridge, 

hes  repeating  themselves  in  the 


hoop  like  the  bridges  of  tea  boxes  a 
and  so  quaint  that  it  is  the  most  deli 
The  hoop  rounds  itself  in  the  wat- 
mirror  the  velvet  grass  and  airy  bra' 
p;^f,.^<^  „rU;r>T^  ;t  i^  impossible  to  h 
■•^hes  ^prinr  up  ar 
eveii 

The  Antietam  n 
twists  under  the  hi 
vation,  so  there  ' 
Another  sudden  ^- 
with  its  three  beaut 
water.    B^ide  the  str&am  are  the  ruins  of  the  old  mill. 


^be  Brt^Ge  at  2)elemere  99 

draped  in  vines,  its  broken  stones  decked  with  wild  flowers. 
High  up  in  the  upper  story  of  the  wall  is  a  fireplace  opening 
and  hearth,  and  the  arches  below,  through  which  the  water 
ran,  are  still  perfect.  It  seems  to  exist  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  tempt  the  artist  and  amateur  photographer  to  spend 
long  hours  by  the  waterside,  sketching  and  making  pictures. 

On  the  hill  above  the  water,  on  the  same  side  as  the  mill 
but  so  high  up  as  to  make  it  seem  out  of  the  picture,  is  a 
cluster  of  dwellings  where  was  once  held  the  famous  school  of 
"Delamere,"  taught  by  the  Reverend  Bartholomew  Booth. 
He  was  an  English  clergyman,  who  lived  before  the  Revolu- 
tion at  "Needwood, "  on  the  other  side  of  the  South  Moun- 
tain, near  the  village  of  Burkettsville.  When  the  colonies 
were  at  war  with  England,  there  was  a  great  prejudice  felt 
against  the  English  clergymen.  It  was  too  often  justified. 
Many  of  them  were  younger  sons,  sent  to  the  colonies  by 
their  families  at  home,  interested  in  getting  them  out  of  the 
way.  Their  behavior  in  America  brought  contempt  on 
their  profession,  in  Virginia  and  Maryland.  In  the  case 
of  men  of  real  worth,  like  Mr.  Booth,  there  was  trouble  of 
another  sort.  Many  of  them  were  seriously  troubled  at  be- 
ing required  to  go  against  their  oath  of  allegiance  to  Great 
Britain,  which  they  took  at  ordination.  They  felt  that, 
until  they  could  transfer  their  fealty  to  another  government, 
they  were  bound  by  this  oath  and  they  were  in  consequence 
distrusted  by  their  American  neighbors,  and  often  driven 
from  their  parishes. 

The  Reverend  Bartholomew  Booth  was  deprived  of  his 
parish.  Forced  to  support  himself  and  his  family,  he 
bought  land  along  the  Antietam  and  opened  a  school  for 
boys.     He  must  have  been  more  liberally  treated  here  than 


loo  ZTbe  Hntletam 

across  the  mountain,  for  it  is  a  matter  of  record  that  he 
held  services  for  several  years  for  St.  John's  parish,  then 
called  All  Saints',  when  there  was  no  other  rector.  Hagers- 
town  then  had  no  church  building,  and  the  one  nearest  his 
home  was  at  Chapel  Woods,  near  what  is  now  St.  James 
School.  There  he  held  services  in  a  little  log  church.  All 
Saints'  parish  was  then  so  large  that  it  extended  over  three 
counties,  and  its  rector  must  preach  wherever  he  found  a 
congregation. 

As  we  see  it  now,  Delemere  (for  the  name  is  so  spelled 
to-day)  would  seem  to  have  been  a  strange  place  to  choose 
for  establishing  a  school,  the  situation  is  so  remote  and 
secluded.  But  the  road  which  passes  by  it  was  then  the 
main  road  through  Frederick  County  to  the  West.  The 
travel  which  later  went  over  the  Boonsboro  turnpike  to 
Hagerstown,  and  on  to  the  Conococheague,  at  that  time 
passed  by  Delemere  to  Williamsport.  It  was  the  old 
Braddock's  road,  for  when  Braddock's  army  came  through 
the  valley,  it  crossed  the  South  Mountain  at  Turner's  Gap, 
came  down  by  Keedysville  and  "Delamere"  to  Williams- 
port,  and  there  crossed  the  river  into  Virginia.  Twenty 
years  before  Mr.  Booth  settled  down  to  teach  his  boys' 
school,  that  army  had  marched  down  the  Devil's  Back- 
bone (which  must  have  been  the  Devil's  own  road  at  that 
time),  and  the  woods  of  Delemere  had  echoed  to  the  jingle 
of  accoutrements,  and  soldiers'  oaths,  and  scarlet  coats 
flashed  through  the  green. 

Guests  came  to  visit  Mr.  Booth's  family.  Once  again 
we  find  that  irrepressible  lover  and  man  of  the  world.  General 
Gates,  courting  by  the  Antietam.  This  time  it  was  a  young 
lady  called  Mary  Valence,  the  daughter  of  a  Liverpool 


^be  B^^0e  at  Delemere  ^  kof 

merchant,  who  was  visiting  the  Booths.  She  listened  to  the 
General's  suit  with  more  favor  than  did  her  lovely  but 
childish  rival  down  the  stream,  and  in  time  married  him 
and  went  to  keep  his  house  at  "Traveller's  Rest, "  across  the 
river,  in  Virginia. 

Some  letters  have  been  preserved  in  the  Booth  family 
from  parents  who  sent  their  sons  to  his  school.  One  of 
them  was  written  in  1777  by  Mr.  Robert  Morris,  who  had 
sent  on  his  little  son,  not  quite  eight  years  old,  from  York, 
Pennsylvania.  He  wrote  that  he  was  at  a  loss  for  school- 
books,  which  he  could  not  get  in  York,  and  promised  to 
send  to  England  for  them.  He  was  so  well  pleased  with  the 
school  that  he  recommended  it  to  his  friends,  and  a  year 
and  a  half  later  General  Arnold  and  Colonel  Plater  sent  their 
sons  to  "Delamere." 

Considering  the  scarcity  of  good  schools  through  the 
country,  it  was  not  strange  that  such  prominent  men  should 
send  their  sons  to  Mr.  Booth.  Education  was  a  problem  for 
parents  to  consider  seriously.  In  the  Southern  States, 
where  plantation  life  prevailed,  the  household  was  a  self- 
sufficing  community,  very  much  as  in  the  old  days  of  Eng- 
land. All  the  industries  necessary  for  maintaining  a 
family  were  carried  on  at  the  home  centre;  and  the  school- 
master taught  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  family  under 
their  own  roof  tree.  Throughout  the  South,  the  private 
tutor  was  the  rule,  and  schools,  even  private  schools,  the 
exception.  The  tutor  was  usually  some  English  clergyman, 
or  clever  Scotchman,  who  had  drifted  out  to  the  colonies; 
and  often  the  need  for  them  was  so  great,  and  there  was 
such  difficulty  in  procuring  them,  that  indentured  men 
were  taken  on  their  arrival  to  work  out  their  time  in  this 


io2«  Z\)C  antietam 

capacity.  The  young  nation,  with  its  eagerness  for  know- 
ledge, must  find  a  way,  and  the  absurd  and  pathetic  cry, 
which  often  arose,  has  been  recorded,  "A  ship  is  coming 
in.     Let 's  go  and  buy  a  schoolmaster." 

In  New  England  the  Puritans  soon  secured  some  sort 
of  schooling  for  the  children  of  a  community;  but  there 
small  farms  drew  people  close  together,  and  the  township 
system  of  local  government  brought  about  a  unity  that 
was  wanting  in  the  plantations  of  the  South. 

In  Pennsylvania,  neither  strictly  of  the  North  nor  of 
the  South,  the  situation  was  complicated  by  the  two  op- 
posing races,  the  English  and  the  Germans,  who  would  not 
work  together  in  the  matter  of  public  education.  The 
Germans  wanted  their  own  language  taught  in  the  schools, 
and  it  took  a  leader  like  Muhlenberg  to  try  to  argue  them 
out  of  such  an  unreasonable  position.  There  were  sectarian 
schools,  taught  by  Quakers  and  Moravians;  but  public 
instruction  was  poorly  provided  for.  It  was  natural  there- 
fore that  a  good  private  school  in  the  next  State,  taught  by 
a  clergjnnan  and  a  scholar,  should  attract  attention. 

The  difficulty  of  getting  proper  school-books,  which 
hampered  Mr.  Morris,  was  not  confined  to  his  experience. 
It  was  common  to  the  whole  country,  and  was  complicated 
by  the  political  conditions.  At  the  time  of  the  Revolution 
people  began  to  realize  that  American  boys  ought  to  be 
taught  from  American  books.  Up  to  that  time  almost  all 
school-books  were  imported  from  England.  Only  Cheever's 
Accidence,  which  was  the  standard  work  for  teaching  Latin 
throughout  the  colonies,  was  written  in  this  country  be- 
fore the  Revolution.  Other  school-books  had  been  printed 
in  both  Boston  and  Philadelphia,  but  they  were  reprints 


Ebe  Brlboe  at  Belemere  103 

like  "The  New  England  Primer,"  which  was  first  printed 
in  London  and  called  "The  Protestant  Tutor."  After  the 
war  Noah  Webster  got  out  his  famous  Spelling  Book,  and 
after  it  followed  a  number  of  arithmetics,  grammars,  and 
other  text-books. 

The  sentiment  of  patriotism  in  education  was  strongly 
felt  by  Washington.  He  deplored  the  custom  of  sending 
American  youths  abroad  to  finish  their  education,  as  was 
the  almost  universal  custom  in  the  South.  His  earnest 
wish  was  to  see  a  University  established  in  Washington, 
which  would  draw  together  young  men  from  all  over  the 
Union.  The  friendships  formed  there  would  help  to  do 
away  with  sectional  prejudice,  for  at  that  time  every  State 
was  inclined  to  be  intolerant,  Pennsylvania  looking  down  on 
Georgia  and  Maryland  on  Maine,  Massachusetts  and  Vir- 
ginia eyeing  each  other  askance.  Much  the  same  feeling 
which  animated  Cecil  Rhodes  in  establishing  his  scholar- 
ships at  Oxford,  induced  Washington  to  advocate  the 
University. 

It  is  interesting  to  read  the  letters  in  which  Benedict 
Arnold  set  forth  his  ideas  for  the  education  of  his  sons. 
He  dwelt  on  the  practical  value  of  what  they  were  to  learn. 

"I  wish  their  education,"  he  wrote,  "to  be  useful  rather 
than  learned.  Life  is  too  uncertain  to  throw  away  in 
studies  that  perhaps  one  man  in  Ten  thousand  has  the 
genius  to  make  a  figure  in.  You  will  Pardon  my  dictating 
to  you.  Sir,  but  as  the  fortune  of  every  man  in  this  country 
is  uncertain,  I  wish  my  sons  to  be  educated  in  such  a  manner 
that  with  prudence  and  Industry  they  may  acquire  a 
Fortune,  as  well  as  become  useful  Members  of  society." 

He  wrote  that  they  were  to  have  an  allowance,  and  keep 


I04  Zbc  antietam 

a  regular  account  of  their  expenses,  which  account  was  to  be 
forwarded  to  him. 

"This  will  teach  them  economy  and  Method,"  he  wrote, 
with  that  curious  scattering  of  capitals  which  characterizes 
the  letters  of  the  period.  And  he  adds,  "I  will  expect  them 
to  write  to  me  frequently — of  this  they  will  doubtless  want 
reminding." 

He  must  have  written  this  with  memories  of  his  own 
schoolboy  days,  recalling  the  weekly  letters  home  that  are 
the  bane  of  every  schoolboy;  the  blind  groping  after  thoughts 
that  will  not  come,  as  soon  as  he  gets  his  pen  in  hand.  No 
doubt,  too,  he  remembered  his  own  childish  accounts, 
filled  out  with  the  convenient  "sundries,"  that  take  the 
place  of  "things  it  is  more  interesting  not  to  know." 

These  little  sons  of  General  Arnold  are  pathetic  figures 
in  the  picture  of  Mr.  Booth's  school,  and  one  follows  their 
brief  school  life  at  "Delamere"  with  a  melancholy  know- 
ledge of  what  came  after. 

The  special  reason  for  sending  Richard  and  Benedict  to 
school  at  this  time,  was  General  Arnold's  marriage  to  his  sec- 
ond wife,  the  brilliant  and  beautiful  Margaret  Shippen  of 
Philadelphia.  Henry,  the  youngest  son,  was  left  in  charge 
of  his  aunt,  Hannah  Arnold.  Their  father  was  then  in 
command  of  Philadelphia,  living  in  a  most  extravagant 
style,  with  lavish  display,  and  giving  handsome  entertain- 
ments. He  was  distinguished  by  his  bravery,  and  by  his 
wounds  won  in  battle,  and  the  boys  looked  up  to  him  with 
admiration  and  pride.  Of  the  eldest,  Benedict,  his  aunt 
wrote,  "Ben  is  eager  to  hear  everything  in  relation  to  his 
father. " 

There  was  plenty  to  hear  during  their  school -days.     Ar- 


JLbc  Bridge  at  Delemere  105 

nold's  marriage,  court-martial,  and  trial  took  place  during 
their  first  two  years  at  school.  In  spite  of  the  kindness  with 
which  General  Washington  tried  to  soften  the  blow  of  his 
public  censure  and  reprimand,  it  was  severe.  The  boys 
suffered,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  their  fellow  schoolboys 
were  merciful.  At  this  time  their  Aunt  Hannah  wrote, 
"We  hear  nothing  from  the  little  boys  in  Maryland. " 

In  the  year  of  Arnold's  downfall  the  boys  were  left 
through  the  holidays  at  "Delamere. "  Through  the  almost 
exotic  summer  of  Maryland,  they  bathed  and  fished  and 
paddled  in  the  Antietam,  laying  up  memories  for  after  life, 
for  their  later  experiences  led  them  far  afield,  to  the  cold  of 
Nova  Scotia  and  Canada,  to  the  tropical  West  Indies,  and 
to  bleak  London  winters. 

Here  all  the  hurrying  life  of  a  Southern  summer  unfolded 
itself,  where  the  teeming  vegetation,  with  its  rush  of  foliage 
and  luxuriance  of  growth  squanders  itself  on  field  and  hill, 
where  the  heat  broods  over  the  earth  day  and  night,  and 
owls  hoot  through  the  warm  darkness,  and  katydids  make 
their  monotonous  clicking  among  the  leaves;  where  the 
mournful  cry  is  heard  from  the  black  woods,  plaintive  and 
remonstrant,  "  Whip-poor- Will !  Whip-poor- Will ! "  and 
the  bullfrog  sounds  his  deep  note,  twanging  like  the  spent 
string  of  a  'cello;  and  with  all  these  notes  and  sounds 
of  the  dark  hours,  the  fairy  pulsing  lights  of  the  fireflies  flit 
up  and  down,  over  the  meadow  grass  and  through  the 
bushes,  like  the  lanterns  of  elves,  like  falling  sparks,  or 
shooting  stars;  where  through  the  golden  days,  when  the 
shadows  of  tree  and  hill  are  blue  on  the  grain  fields,  comes 
the  sweet,  clear  call,  flute-like  and  confident,  "Bob- White! 
Bob-White!" 


io6  ZTbe  antietam 

So  the  ardent  summer  moves  on,  from  the  time  the 
flushed  and  eager  redbud  rushes  into  bloom,  till  the  frost 
comes,  and  nuts  and  leaves  drop  again. 

To  Arnold's  little  sons  the  fall  of  the  year  brought 
their  most  terrible  trial.  Their  love  and  admiration  received 
its  most  crushing  blow  in  the  news  of  Andre's  capture  and 
their  father's  treason.  Their  Aunt  Hannah,  who  through 
everything  was  their  best  and  strongest  friend,  sent  for 
them  to  join  her,  and  in  the  autumn,  when  woods  and 
stream  were  most  delightful,  they  said  good-bye  to  the 
Antietam. 

From  this  time  on  until  her  death,  they  were  often 
with  their  aunt.  For  a  short  time  Arnold  took  arms  against 
his  country,  though  it  was  an  ordeal  from  which  he  shrank. 
He  raised  a  regiment  called  the  American  Legion,  to  fight 
on  the  side  of  the  English,  and  the  boys  were  given  com- 
missions as  lieutenants.  When  the  war  ended  they  were 
put  upon  half-pay,  as  retired  officers,  though  they  were 
mere  children  of  twelve  and  thirteen.  When  peace  was 
restored,  they  went  to  live  in  London,  but  the  coldness  and 
neglect  with  which  he  was  treated  were  too  hard  for  Arnold 
to  bear  patiently,  and  he  went  into  a  trading  venture  with 
the  West  Indies,  and  for  a  time  made  his  home  at  St.  John, 
New  Brunswick.  Richard  and  Henry  joined  him,  but  the 
experiment  was  a  failure,  Arnold  went  back  to  London,  and 
the  boys  to  their  Aunt  Hannah,  in  Canada,  where  her 
brother  had  received  a  grant  of  lands. 

Poor  Benedict,  the  oldest,  and  the  one  who  had  adored 
his  father  most,  died  young,  of  a  wound  gotten  when  fighting 
as  an  officer  of  artillery  in  the  West  Indies.  He  was  only 
twenty-seven.     Soon  after,  Arnold  died  in  dark  and  dreary 


ITbe  IBvitfQC  at  Dclemcre  107 

London,  and  the  mournful  tradition  is  that  he  asked  to  have 
his  American  uniform  put  on  him,  that  he  might  die  in  it. 
Hannah  Arnold  survived  her  brother  but  a  few  years,  and 
after  her  death  Richard  married,  and  had  a  large  family, 
and  in  the  language  of  the  old  tales,  lived  happy  ever  after. 

The  two  women  who  stood  by  General  Arnold  through 
good  and  evil  were  so  much  more  than  ordinary  in  char- 
acter that  they  make  it  possible  to  believe  that  there  was 
unsuspected  good  in  him  to  call  out  such  devotion.  His 
sister  Hannah  was  a  woman  of  strong  and  lovable  character, 
and  loyal  to  her  brother  to  the  end.  She  never  reproached 
him,  and  always  wrote  of  him  as  "my  unfortunate  brother. " 
His  wife,  the  lovely  and  gentle  "Peggy"  Shippen,  was  one 
of  the  sweetest  women  ever  known.  Very  young  when  she 
married,  sensitive  and  winning,  with  a  character  one  would 
have  thought  too  soft  and  tender  to  bear  misfortune,  she 
developed  the  greatest  strength  and  heroism,  devoting 
herself  to  her  husband  in  the  sad  and  trying  years  of  life  in 
London,  and  living  in  exile  afterwards  for  the  sake  of  her 
sons,  who,  she  understood  well,  would  always  suffer  in 
America  for  their  father's  disgrace. 

If  these  reflections  deserve  the  reproach  of  saying  an 
"undisputed  thing  in  such  a  solemn  way,"  it  is  because  the 
drama  of  life  takes  on  an  added  pathos  when  seen  through  a 
child's  eyes.  A  child's  heart  can  keep  faith  long  after  a 
man's  world  condemns  him,  and  one  can  hope  that  these 
little  lads,  going  out  from  their  Maryland  school,  held  to 
their  childish  affection,  and  that  in  the  wider  knowledge 
of  maturity  they  ranged  themselves  with  the  two  women 
in  loyalty  to  their  father. 

These  are  long  thoughts  for  the  banks  of  the  Antietam, 


io8  Zl)c  Hntletam 

more  fit  for  thinking  of  by  winter  fires,  when  the  coals  glow 
and  ashes  fall:  but  one  would  like  to  have  looked  into  the 
schoolroom  at  "Delamere"  in  the  days  when  the  boys  were 
hearing  rumors  of  their  father's  stormy  career,  and  Ben 
was  eager  to  learn  everything  in  relation  to  him. 

We  may  be  sure  that  in  after  years,  in  the  long,  snowy 
days  of  Canadian  winters,  Richard's  children  heard  many 
tales  of  school  life  by  the  Antietam,  of  chestnut  hunting  in 
the  woods,  and  possum  hunts  by  torchlight  with  little  negro 
boys,  when  he  and  his  brother  Ben  went  to  school  to  Mr. 
Booth. 


Chapter  XI 

The  Bridges  at  Roxbury,  Claggett's,  and  Rose's  Mills 

/^VER  the  Antietam  between  Delemere  and  Funkstown 
^-^  are  sprung  three  bridges,  which  are  among  the  finest 
that  cross  the  stream.  They  all  stand  at  the  crossings  of 
country  roads,  in  quiet  places.  No  special  history  attaches 
to  them;  they  are  not  connected  with  any  historical  event, 
nor  identified  with  any  well-known  character.  One  thing 
they  have  in  common,  each  bridge  stands  beside  a  mill. 

In  each  case  the  mill  antedated  the  bridge,  and  the  true 
sequence  in  which  to  name  the  triad  which  is  repeated  again 
and  again  along  the  Antietam  would  be,  the  ford,  the  mill, 
the  bridge.  For  the  ford  brought  the  road,  and  the  road 
drew  the  settler  to  build  his  house  and  mill  where  his  most 
elemental  wants  would  be  satisfied.  With  water  to  quench 
his  thirst,  and  meal  to  bake  his  cake,  he  was  fortified  for  his 
struggle  with  the  wilderness.  When  the  first  mill  wheels 
turned,  and  the  first  meal  was  ground  between  the  stones 
on  the  Antietam,  this  region  was  called  the  Back- Woods,  a 
suggestive  name  making  one  think  of  the  deeper  shades 
and  wilder  country  behind  each  settler  who  penetrated  it. 

As  from  this  little  point  a  radius  of  settlement  was  made, 
the  increased  trade  at  the  mill  brought  the  need  of  the  bridge. 

109 


no  Zbc  antietam 

There  are  but  two  exceptions  to  this  general  law:  Bumside's 
bridge  and  the  Hitt  bridge  had  no  mill  within  sight. 

When  transportation  was  done  by  wagons  and  boats,  the 
mills  in  the  valley  were  important.  Things  made  on  the 
spot  had  their  value.  These  flouring  mills  belonged  to 
the  day  of  small  things,  and  glancing  back  to  the  old  mill 
life  one  sees  what  the  trade  did  for  the  country. 

As  far  back  as  the  records  go  there  were  mills,  for  the 
settler's  first  work  was  to  plant  grain  and  com  to  feed  his 
family.  Fine  crops  of  wheat  were  raised  all  through  the 
Cumberland  Valley.  Tropical  looking  Indian  com,  with 
rippling  leaves  and  hanging  tassels,  and  crimson  silk  tipping 
the  full  ears,  grew  to  perfection  in  the  limestone  country. 

Where  the  road  went  down  to  the  water  the  miller  built 
his  mill,  and  to  the  farmers  it  fulfilled  the  office  of  the 
country  store,  and  the  city  club ;  it  was  a  gossip-place  where 
they  met  and  exchanged  the  news  of  the  neighborhood  and 
discussed  the  affairs  of  the  nation.  Weighty  subjects  were 
settled  there,  and  every  man's  business  was  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth.  The  countryman,  bringing  his  grain  in 
saddlebags  to  exchange  for  flour  and  meal,  enjoyed  the  idle 
sociability  of  the  mill  door. 

Strange  figures  according  to  our  notions  gathered  there, 
for,  standing  on  the  public  roads,  they  took  toll  of  the  news 
from  travellers  going  east  and  west.  Fur  traders  and  trap- 
pers bringing  their  valuable  furs  and  peltries  to  Baltimore 
rested  by  the  stream  and  told  tales  of  the  western  country, 
inflaming  many  a  young  man's  fancy,  till  he  was  tempted 
to  leave  the  safe  life  of  the  settlement  for  the  hunting 
grounds.  Wagoners  from  Baltimore,  travellers  on  their 
way  to  Cumberland,  strolling  players  who  follow  on  the 


IRoiburi?,  Claggett'0,  anb  IRoee'e  flDUls 


III 


heels  of  the  youngest  and  rudest  civiHzation,  rested  at  the 
mill.  The  patent  medicine  men,  such  as  now  advertise 
their  wares  to  the  accompaniment  of  horns  and  flaring  lights 
in  the  Square  at  Hagerstown,  lingered  at  the  mill  to  display 
their  Damask  Lip  Salve,  their  Ague  Cure,  and  Indian 
Specific.  These  were  the  days  before  the  bridges,  when 
the  traveller  had  to  wait  for  the  stream  to  subside,  when 
swollen  by  storms,  before  he  could  go  on  with  his  journey. 

There  were  other  uses  to  which  the  mills  were  put.  They 
were  appointed  places  for  militia  musters,  in  the  wars  of  the 
Revolution  and  of  1812.  They  were  advertised  as  the 
places  for  the  collection  of  taxes,  and  many  notices,  over 
the  name  of  Nathaniel  Rochester,  called  for  the  payment 
of  taxes  on  a  certain  date  at  this  or  that  mill.  They  were 
often  used  for  the  sale  of  household  goods  and  furniture, 
when  any  farm  in  the  neighborhood  changed  hands,  and 
were  favorite  places  for  a  horse  trade.  They  had  a  place 
in  the  social  life  of  the  community  apart  from  their  legiti- 
mate purpose,  and  a  man  of  character  in  charge  of  a  mill 
had  a  wide  influence.  The  notice  which  was  printed  on  the 
death  of  one  of  the  old  millers  near  Hagerstown,  "  He  was  a 
peaceable  citizen,  an  obliging  neighbor,  and  Honest  Man," 
might  have  been  repeated  on  the  passing  of  many  of  the 
millers  of  Antietam. 

When  the  chief  shipping  trade  in  flour  passed  from  Wil- 
mington to  Baltimore,  Washington  County  farmers  found  a 
ready  sale  for  all  they  ground.  It  was  delivered  to  middle- 
men, who  took  it  down  the  river  to  Alexandria,  Georgetown, 
and  Washington,  from  which  points  it  was  distributed. 
There  were  warehouses  on  the  Potomac  at  Williamsport 
where  the  flour  was  received,  and  advertisements  for  hand- 


112 


Zhc  Hntietam 


ling  it  were  numerous.  To  quote  an  instance,  Thomas 
Kennedy  advertised  that  he  would  receive  the  flour  to  be 
delivered  at  his  warehouse  before  the  ist  of  April,  and  con- 
vey it  down  the  river  to  those  points  for  one  dollar  a  barrel. 
The  commission  men  kept  a  supply  of  groceries  suited  to 
the  back-country,  which  the  farmer  could  take  if  he  wished 
in  exchange  for  his  flour,  and  which  could  be  carried  up  the 
river  in  the  emptied  boats. 

The  equipment  of  the  mill  consisted  of  the  mill  building 
with  overshot  or  undershot  wheel,  the  mill  dam  and  race, 
and  the  cooper's  shop  where  the  barrels  were  made  to  hold 
the  flour.  Near  them  was  the  miller's  house,  often  of  stone 
like  the  mill ;  and  very  often  a  distillery  completed  the  group. 
Some  of  the  descriptions  ran  thus:  "A  new  Merchant  Mill 
and  Saw  Mill,  working  under  a  19  feet  fall,  with  two  over- 
shot water  wheels.  The  Grist  mill  has  one  pair  of  French 
burrs,  and  one  pair  of  Alleghany  stones  4 J  feet  diameter"; 
and  again,  "Two  water  wheels  20  feet  diameter,  about  8  feet 
head  overshot,  with  elevators  for  both  wheat  and  flour," 
and  "A  Mill  house  of  stone,  on  a  large  scale,  one  pair  of 
French  burrs  and  one  pair  of  Country  Stones. " 

Superfine  and  common  flour,  middlings,  ship  stuffs, 
shorts,  bran,  buckwheat,  and  corn  meal  were  ground  at  the 
mills.  The  same  William  Faux  who  has  been  quoted  be- 
fore, wrote  about  a  friend  whom  he  visited,  who  owned  a 
complete  grist  and  saw  mill,  and  had  all  the  wheat  he  could 
grind  for  himself  and  his  neighbors.  From  the  latter  he 
took  the  tenth  for  toll,  in  payment  for  his  work.  The 
services  of  a  careful,  faithful  miller  cost  him  five  hundred 
dollars  a  year. 

There  were  numerous  advertisements  for  good,  sober 


112 


;ibe  antictam 


ling   it    were   nur 
Kennedy  adverti.> 
-ed  at  his  v* 
vcy  It  down  the  n 
The  comm^^  '*^^" 
the  back-t^ 
in  exchange  for  hi 
river  in  the  emp' 

The  €ni 
with  <'' »  r  ^ 
and  the  o    ' 
the  flour. 

like  the  mill ;  and  ver> 
Son«;  of  the  descripticwis 

and  Saw  Mill,    v   The  Bridge-  at  Rose's  Mill 
shot  water  wheel 
burrs,  and  one  pu.      .  -,. 
and  again,  "Two  water  wiv 
head  oversho  i  ele vatt  *' 

and  "A  Mill  house  of  sto 
French  burrs  and  one  pai' 

Superfine   .      ■ 

cVioric     sir -11' 


.  instance,  Thomas 
eceive  tiie  flour  to  be 

ist  of  April,  and  con- 
fer one  dollar  a  barrel. 

'  ':;jroceries  suited  to 

1  take  if  he  wished 

ould  be  carried  up  the 


d  of  the  mill  building 
mill  dam  and  race, 
vcre  made  to  hold 
often  of  stone 
'■  the  group, 
chant  Mill 
Ao  over- 
French 
iaineter"; 
tbout  8  feet 
at  and  flour," 
le,  one  pair  of 


compietc  Jurist  and  sa 
grind  for  him 
took  the  ten 
services  of  a 
dollars  a  year 

There  were  tmOMfma  advertisements  for  good,  sober 


,s,    ship   stuffs, 
..  ;e  ground  at  the 
IS  been  quoted  be- 
ho  owned  a 
vheat  he  could 
i  .>m  the  latter  he 
tor  his  work.     The 
;t  him  five  hundred 


IRoibur^,  dlaggetre,  ant>  IRoee'^  noills    113 

millers,  who  understood  their  trade,  and  such  a  man  was 
offered  a  house  to  live  in,  enough  ground  for  a  garden,  and  a 
stable.  Often  the  miller  stayed  for  years  at  one  mill.  The 
mill  owner  might  own  several  mills  on  different  streams. 

Millers  married  millers'  daughters.  Again  and  again 
youth  and  maid,  brought  up  in  the  dusty  atmosphere  of  the 
mill,  within  smell  of  the  sweet  flour  and  clean  grain,  joined 
together  and  established  themselves  among  the  brotherhood 
of  millers.  Often  the  trade  was  handed  down  from  father  to 
son.  The  miller  set  his  little  boy  to  work  when  hardly  able 
to  carry  his  half-bushel  of  rye.  When  he  went  to  Hagers- 
town,  the  little  son  was  left  to  tend  the  mill,  to  see  that  the 
mill-race  did  not  get  clogged  up  with  leaves,  nor  the  stones 
gummed  with  garlic.  The  lad  grew  up  with  the  ambition  to 
be  a  miller.  He  had  his  book  to  read.  The  Young  Miller 
and  Millwright'' s  Guide.  He  watched  the  great  wagons 
with  their  strong  teams  coming  to  the  mill  door  with  their 
loads,  and  listened  to  the  dickering  of  the  farmers  over  the 
grain,  and  in  time  he  too  became  a  "dusty  miller. " 

Go  into  one  of  these  old  mills,  and  see  the  cobwebs  heavy 
with  flour  flapping  under  the  beams,  the  rude  wooden  pins 
which  held  the  machinery  together,  the  old  millstones 
leaning  against  the  wall,  the  picks  for  dressing  them  laid  on 
the  deep  window-seat,  the  half-door  open  above  to  let  in  the 
air  and  closed  below  to  keep  out  inquisitive  animals.  There 
is  something  most  attractive  in  the  surroundings,  in  the 
sound  of  the  rushing  water  falling  over  the  dam,  the  quiet 
stretch  that  backs  up  the  stream  and  reflects  the  trees,  the 
noisy,  busy  waters  of  the  mill-race  hurrying  into  the  dark- 
ness under  the  mill.  One  can  understand  how  the  miller's 
sons  and  daughters  held  to  the  old  trade,  and  were  well 


114  ^be  antletam 

content  to  spend  their  own  lives  amid  its  sights  and  sounds. 

The  cooper's  shop  is  not  the  least  attractive  among  the 
quaint,  substantial  buildings  of  old  days,  still  to  be  seen 
all  through  the  country  under  the  lee  of  the  mill.  Sober 
coopers  were  as  much  in  demand  as  sober  millers,  and  good 
wages  were  offered  to  a  journeyman  cooper  well  acquainted 
with  tight-work,  that  is,  who  could  make  barrels  that  would 
hold  liquids  as  well  as  dry  materials.  The  cooper,  too, 
had  his  house  and  garden,  beside  his  shop. 

Though  the  cooper  put  together  the  barrels  at  the  mill, 
the  principal  parts  were  made  in  the  mountains  by  the 
mountaineers  who  cut  down  the  trees.  The  pieces  were 
shaped  by  hand  on  the  spot,  different  woods  being  used  for 
different  parts.  All  the  staves  were  of  white  oak,  all  the 
barrel  heads  of  chestnut.  A  third  tree  furnished  the  withes 
which  bound  the  barrels,  in  those  days  of  hand  work,  before 
the  iron  hoop  was  used.  This  was  hickory,  and  men  to-day 
still  remember  when  the  wagons  would  come  through  the 
town  loaded  with  long  hickory  poles,  being  taken  to 
the  mills  to  be  split  and  used  for  binding  the  barrels.  For 
the  splitting  of  the  hickory  was  the  cooper's  work,  and  done 
at  the  shop.  The  barrels  were  made  to  hold  one  hundred 
and  ninety-six  pounds  of  flour,  and  the  cooper  was  paid  for 
his  work  by  the  piece.  One  Washington  County  cooper,  who 
learned  his  trade  at  Locust  Grove,  supplied  all  the  barrels 
for  the  milling  business  at  Harpers  Ferry. 

One  member  of  the  little  milling  circle  must  not  be  for- 
gotten, the  apprentice,  who  gave  his  twenty-four  hours  to  his 
master  the  miller  in  order  that  he  might  learn  the  trade. 
An  inconsequent  member  he  often  was,  the  "stout,  healthy 
lad  of  sixteen  or  seventeen, "  so  often  advertised  for.     His 


IRoxbur^,  Claggetre,  ant)  TRoee'e  flDille    115 

distinguishing  characteristic  seems  to  have  been  his  irre- 
pressible tendency  to  run  away.  Was  it  the  rough  usage  he 
received  from  the  miller,  or  the  incorrigible,  adventurous 
disposition  of  youth,  which  constantly  inspired  his  feet 
to  rove,  and  carried  him  in  the  dead  of  night  away  from 
his  master's  mill?  "Ran  away  from  the  Widow  Rentches 
mill,"  runs  the  oft-told  tale,  "  an  apprentice  to  the  milling 
trade,  Andrew  Chestnut,  between  sixteen  and  seventeen 
years  of  age,"  His  drab  roundabout,  his  swansdown  waist- 
coat and  linen  trousers,  and  his  mealey  hat  (whatever  that 
might  be,  suggestive  of  his  unwilling  trade)  too  plainly 
marked  him  out  for  recapture;  and  for  the  ungracious  task 
of  returning  him,  the  performer  received  no  more  than  six 
cents  and  a  basket  of  bran. 

What  boy  would  now  think  his  employer  had  a  right  to 
all  his  time,  both  night  and  day?  He  slept  at  the  mill,  in  a 
bunk  against  the  wall,  and  through  the  healthy  sleep  of 
youth  and  in  his  dreams  he  must  listen  to  the  noise  of  the 
mill-wheel,  that  it  should  not  be  too  slow  from  the  clogging 
up  of  the  mill-race,  and  for  the  sound  of  the  stones,  that  it 
should  not  become  dull  with  the  gummy  exudations  of  the 
garlic.  And  if  either  betrayed  some  obstruction,  he  must 
waken  instantly  and  remedy  it. 

One  of  the  industries  subsidiary  to  the  mills  was  the 
cutting  of  millstones  of  country  manufacture,  called  Alle- 
ghany stones.  They  were  cut  on  the  North  Mountain,  and 
used  for  the  coarser  work  of  the  mill,  the  grinding  of  meal 
and  middlings,  and  chopping  of  rye  into  inch  pieces  to  feed 
to  horses  in  hot  weather. 

The  stones  used  for  grinding  flour  were  brought  from 
France  at  great  expense,   and  were  called  French   buhr 


ii6  ^be  Hntietam 

stones.  They  were  made  of  a  rough  quartz  from  the  Paris 
basin,  called  silica,  which  supplied  the  best  millstones  all  over 
the  world.  They  were  very  hard,  honeycombed  with  irregu- 
lar cells,  which  gave  them  an  unequalled  surface  for  break- 
ing the  grain  and  grinding  it  into  fine  flour.  They  were  cut 
in  sections,  and  put  together  for  use  with  strong  iron  bands. 
One  sees  them  still  throughout  the  mill  country,  lying  beside 
the  mill,  or  used  as  door-stones;  just  as  in  fishing  villages 
sections  of  whales*  backbones  are  used  for  steps  and  footstools- 

Curious  names  were  given  to  the  parts  of  the  millstone. 
The  lower  stationary  stone  was  the  bedstone,  and  the 
revolving  upper  one,  the  runner.  The  hole  through  which 
the  spindle  passed  was  the  eye,  and  around  the  eye  circled 
smoothly  the  bosom.  From  this  ran  grooves  tooled  through 
the  stone  according  to  a  certain  pattern,  toward  the  margin, 
which  was  called  the  skirt.  One  part  of  the  mechanism, 
which  fed  the  grain  to  the  stones,  was  the  Damsel,  so  prone 
are  men  to  give  to  their  articles  of  trade  feminine  terms; 
the  gunner's  gun,  the  sailor's  ship,  the  machinist's  engine, 
are  all,  "She." 

On  these  fine  French  stones,  flour  was  ground  which  old 
people  tell  us  was  far  superior  to  the  present  flour  made  by 
the  roller  process.  It  rose  quickly  and  had  a  quality  which 
the  present  flour  lacks.  It  was  "lively-like,"  whereas 
roller-made  flour  is  fiat  and  lifeless. 

The  other  millstones,  known  as  chopping  stones,  were 
used  for  grinding  meal,  and  are  still  so  used  in  the  mills, 
where  as  in  Bible  days  one  sees  the  com  ground  between 
the  upper  and  the  nether  millstone.  It  is  amusing  to  note 
that  in  very  old  days  in  England,  the  lower  millstone  was 
called  "the  ass,"  because  it  was  too  lazy  to  move. 


One  thinks  of  millers  as  mild  men,  but  they  were  some- 
times as  tempestuous  as  the  waters  of  the  mill-race.  There 
is  a  story  told  of  a  miller  who  was  called  upon  to  testify  in  a 
case  in  which  he  did  not  wish  to  appear.  He  declined  to 
attend  court,  on  the  plea  that  his  health  was  bad.  The 
lawyers  for  the  other  side  came  down  to  take  his  deposition, 
with  the  intention  of  declaring  that,  by  reason  of  his  age 
and  infirmities,  he  was  not  competent  to  give  testimony. 
One  of  the  lawyers  was  a  young  man  just  admitted  to  the 
bar;  the  other  afterward  became  a  Chief  Justice.  They 
drove  down  to  the  country,  and  saw  the  old  miller  sitting 
on  the  porch  of  his  house  beside  the  mill.  Confidently 
they  began  to  put  him  through  his  paces;  but  soon,  to  the 
dismay  of  the  younger  man,  he  found  himself  being  taken 
through  such  an  examination  in  the  law  as  he  had  never 
undergone,  even  when  admitted  to  the  bar.  The  perspira- 
tion streamed  from  his  face  under  the  merciless  attack  of 
the  miller,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  he  got  away  from  the  mill, 
leaving  the  old  man  triumphant. 

Of  this  same  miller  it  is  told  that  he  was  called  to  the 
Conococheague,  by  the  news  that  at  a  mill  he  owned  on 
that  stream  the  mill-dam  was  washed  away.  He  came 
back  in  the  worst  possible  humor.  * '  Damn  a  mill  without 
a  dam!"  he  cried,  telling  of  his  experience  to  a  neighbor. 
"And  damn  it  with  a  Damn!"  he  added  hastily. 

Driving  through  the  country  from  Delemere  to  Roxbury, 
the  road  goes  over  uplands  from  whose  high  reaches  there 
is  an  outlook  over  hills,  beyond  more  hills,  to  the  distant 
mountains.  Then,  as  what  goes  up  must  come  down,  the 
road  drops  suddenly  to  the  level  of  the  stream  where 
the  Antietam  gleams,  spanned  by  the  graceful  arches  of  the 


ii8  (Lbe  Hntletam 

Roxbury  bridge,  with  its  wide  roadway.  It  is  an  old  settle- 
ment, and  would  be  beautiful  but  that  the  picture  is  marred 
by  the  great  bam-like  buildings  of  a  modem  distillery, 
padlocked  and  sheathed  in  metal,  and  the  air  is  tainted  with 
the  fumes  of  whiskey. 

The  man  who  built  the  stone  mill,  which  is  now  used 
as  one  of  the  bonding  houses  for  liquor,  came  to  this  spot 
when  he  was  forty-three  years  old,  and  doubled  his  years 
and  added  eleven  to  the  sum  before  he  left  it  for  another 
world. 

On  through  the  country  the  drive  takes  one,  past  St. 
Mark's  church,  and  by  "Jones's  X-Roads,"  where  old  Billy 
Jones  had  his  smithy;  by  wheat  fields,  and  hedgerows  of 
bittersweet,  where  the  butterfly-weed,  most  gorgeous  of 
Maryland  wild  flowers,  flashes  its  masses  of  orange,  and 
daisies  star  the  grass. 

One  of  the  features  of  these  summer  drives  is  the  clouds 
of  small  yellow  butterflies  that  float  along  the  way.  They 
make  journeys  of  incredible  length  for  such  frail  atoms, 
and  knowing  this  how  delightful  is  their  whimsical  flight, 
their  hovering  over  every  object  that  attracts  them.  Now 
wavering  in  the  breeze,  now  softly  alighting,  they  make  the 
roadside  animated  with  a  cloud  of  a  hundred  lives.  Now 
settling  about  the  margin  of  a  pool,  reflecting  the  clear  sky, 
they  girdle  it  with  pale  sulphur.  And  there  is  a  spiritual 
beauty  in  these  dancing  companies,  so  effortless  and  full  of 
joy  on  their  long  journey. 

By  hill  and  dale  the  road  goes  until  it  comes  to  the  old 
Claggett  mill.  The  group  of  buildings  here  has  already  been 
spoken  of.  There  is  no  finer  collection  the  whole  length  of 
the  Antietam.     Within  a  stone's  throw  of  each  other  are  a 


ii8 


JLlK  Hntlctam 


Roxbury  bridge,  with  its  wide  rriadway.  It  is  an  old  settle- 
ment, and  would  be  be;;  lat  the  picture  is  marred 
by   the  great  bam-likt               i^'^  oi  a  raodem  distillery, 


p.^  ij  xked  and  shea^ 


tietal,  and  the  air  is  tainted  with 


the  funies  of  whiskey. 

The  man  who  built  the  stnm*  mill,  which  is  now  used 
as  one  of  the  bonding  hou«s  f-  -  ^i^  to-,  came  to  this  spot 


one 


when  he  was  forty-three  year 
and  added  eleven  to  Uie  atisn 
world. 

On  through  the  co 
Mark's  church, and  by  ,.  ...  .^  -- 
Jones  had  his  smithy;  V  ■"  -^^hesi, 
bittersweet,  where  the 

Maiyland  wild  f  H^-'^ridge  at  Claggett's  Mill 
daisies  star  the  grass. 

One  of  the  features 
of  small  yeUow  buttertV 
make  journeys  of  incr< 
and  knowing  this  how  delightful 
their  hovering  over  every  obje< 
wavering  in  the  bree25e,  now  sr^ 
roadside  animated  with  a  (' 
c^tfiiriiTT  oKr^nf  fV<«i  marcrin  t'. 
.  pale  8u:, 
beauty  in  them  dancing  comp 
joy  on  their  long  journey. 

By  hill  and  dale  the  ro.i 
Claggett  mill.    The  group  o^ 
spoken  of.     There  is  no  fine: 
the  Antietam.     Within  a  storn 


ioubled  his  years 
e  left  it  for  another 


past  St. 

«M  Billy 

)WS  of 

%*eous  of 

.  and 


iie  clouds 

^ay.     They 

frail  atoms, 

imsical  flight, 

•  them.    Now 

'ley  make  the 

'  lives.     Now 

the  clear  sky, 

is  a  spiritual 

effortless  and  full  of 


il  it  comes  to  the  old 

here  has  already  been 

n  the  whole  length  of 

-w  of  each  other  are  a 


V. 


IRoibur^,  Clagaetfe,  an^  IRofie'e  nDllIe     119 

great  three-storied  mill  with  hip  roof  and  beautiful  water- 
arch;  a  small  stone  bridge  spanning  the  mill-race,  so  good 
that  it  proclaims  the  hand  that  built  it;  and  the  stone  house 
and  large  bridge.  It  is  an  example  still  perfect  of  the  old 
mill  settlement. 

Driving  up  to  the  house  one  summer  evening  by  "  early- 
candle-light,"  to  ask  for  tiger  lilies  which  fill  one  end  of  the 
yard,  the  house  behind  its  overhanging  trees  showed  dark, 
except  where  from  a  wide  basement  opening  the  warm 
light  streamed  upward.  It  was  so  impressive,  with  its  three 
stories  and  galleries  running  across  its  face,  backed  up 
against  the  hill  and  facing  the  mill,  that  it  carried  the  imagi- 
nation back  to  the  time  when  these  mill  houses  were  like 
oases  in  the  desert  of  travel  through  a  sparsely  settled 
country,  and  symbols  of  hospitality  to  the  traveller. 

Only  a  few  steps  away  is  the  bridge,  but  so  placed  that 
owing  to  the  roughness  of  the  banks  and  the  growth  of 
underbrush  it  is  hard  to  get  a  view  of  it.  It  has  one  un- 
usual feature:  the  abutments  up-stream  are  rounded,  but 
down-stream  flattened  and  angular. 

The  owners  of  this  mill  were  large  slaveholders,  and 
their  property  extended  from  here  down  to  Chapel  Woods, 
near  the  college  of  St.  James.  They  had  a  hundred  men  in 
the  harvest  field  at  once,  and  their  mill  set  the  price  of  grain, 
which  the  lesser  ones  were  bound  to  follow.  They  were  the 
first  farmers  in  the  valley  to  introduce  machinery,  and  do 
away  with  the  old  fashion  of  threshing  the  grain  with  a 
flail.  On  the  hill  behind  the  house  were  other  stone  houses, 
in  which  lived  other  members  of  the  family. 

Not  much  farther  up  the  stream  is  another  large  bridge, 
known  as  the  bridge  at  Rose's  mill,  though  only  the  broken 


I20  ZTbe  antietam 

walls  of  the  mill  remain.  On  the  opposite  bank  are  the 
ruins  of  the  cooper's  shop,  and  between  them  the  mill-dam 
pours  its  waters  down  to  the  piers  of  the  bridge. 

Once  this  bridge  was  seen  on  a  winter  evening,  when  the 
sky  was  like  fire,  and  the  air  filled  with  golden  light.  The 
bare  trees  were  sharply  etched  against  the  sky.  In  contrast 
with  their  thin  tracery,  the  noble  old  bridge  showed  its 
massive  bulk;  and  the  strong  spring  of  its  arches  was  thrown 
out  against  the  shining  water. 

Here  again  John  Weaver  made  the  abutments  differ  on 
the  two  sides  of  the  bridge,  on  one  round  and  projecting,  on 
the  other  shallow  and  square.  It  is  on  this  bridge  that  the 
peculiar  feature  noted  earlier  is  found — the  floor  of  the 
bridge  widened  at  an  angle,  making  a  place  where  the  wagons 
could  drive  under  the  door  and  have  their  loads  lifted  into 
the  mill. 

These  two  bridges  are  the  most  individual  of  the  series; 
for  though  the  Lloyds'  bridges  on  the  turnpikes  are  sub- 
stantial and  handsome,  they  have  not  the  special  character 
of  the  two  just  named,  which  (with  the  exception  of  the 
little  bridge  beyond  Leitersburg)  were  the  last  that  John 
Weaver  built,  and  his  strongest  work. 


Chapter  XII 

The  Bridge  at  Funkstown 

THE  turnpike  bridge  at  Funkstown  is  the  only  one  of  all 
the  series  which  seems  to  belong  to  a  town.  The 
bridge  at  Hagerstown,  though  not  far  from  the  busiest  part 
of  the  city,  always  seems  to  be  quite  outside  of  it,  and  is 
a  lonely  bridge,  seldom  visited.  At  Funkstown  the  main 
street  turns  a  corner,  merging  into  the  pike,  and  comes  out 
upon  the  bridge.  The  little  village  is  so  old,  so  quaint  and 
quiet,  with  its  long  street  lined  with  silver  poplars  which 
make  a  bower  of  it  on  summer  evenings,  with  its  flagstone 
pavements,  its  taverns  and  stone  houses,  that  it  might 
belong  to  the  old  country.  It  seems  outside  the  rush  and 
hurry  of  modern  life.  It  is  very  neat ;  and  its  little  gardens, 
tended  with  the  greatest  care,  were  famous  more  than  a 
century  ago. 

The  trolley  which  runs  through  the  street,  over  the  hill, 
and  straight  away  to  the  mountains,  does  not  in  the  least 
disturb  its  calm.  Motor  cars  rush  through  without  causing 
any  excitement.  Changes  in  the  fashion  of  travel  are 
nothing  to  Funkstown,  for  it  has  seen  such  a  rush  and  roar  of 
travel  as  this  country  will  never  see  again.  It  lies  upon 
the  old  turnpike  road  from  Baltimore  to  Wheeling.  Stage 
coaches  and  wagon  teams,  droves  of  cattle,  swearing  team- 


122  Zbc  Hntletam 

sters,  noted  men  travelling  east  and  west,  all  came  through 
Funkstown,  and  gave  it  the  animation  of  a  perpetual  Fair. 

Nothing  will  ever  waken  it  to  such  life  again.  It  has 
fallen  on  days  of  calm  old  age,  and  is  sufficient  to  itself  on 
the  strength  of  its  memories,  content  to  keep  within  its 
ancient  borders,  a  clean,  old,  charming  village. 

Its  real  name  is  Jerusalem,  but  no  one  troubles  about  it. 
The  man  who  founded  it  passed  away  into  the  great  Western 
country,  and  was  never  traced  out  in  his  new  home.  Only 
the  village  which  he  founded  perpetuates  his  name,  and 
that  without  the  right  to  do  so.  Funkstown  has  content- 
edly given  up  its  rightful  title.  Legal  deeds  are  made  out 
to  property  in  Jerusalem,  and  one  might  believe  he  was  tak- 
ing possession  in  a  dream  country,  for  its  name  is  never 
spoken.  It  is  like  the  tail  of  the  dodo,  of  which  the  school- 
boy wrote  in  his  composition,  after  hearing  that  it  had  no 
tail  to  speak  of,  "The  dodo  has  a  tail,  but  we  never  mention 
it." 

The  bridge  at  Funkstown,  the  oldest  over  the  Antietam, 
might  be  the  youngest  judging  by  the  life  and  gayety  about 
it.  The  trolley  from  Hagerstown  brings  crowds  of  holiday- 
makers  who  row  on  the  creek,  and  make  picnics  along  its 
banks.  In  summer  the  water  is  alive  with  craft.  Young 
girls  paddle  in  canoes,  and  brown  and  bareheaded  young 
men  take  their  boats  up  the  stream.  Children  play  on  the 
grassy  banks,  and  there  is  a  continual  hum  of  laughter  and 
gay  voices.  The  tide  of  youth  and  pleasure  passes  up  and 
down  under  the  gray  arches  of  the  bridge. 

In  winter,  when  the  country  is  white  with  snow,  and  a 
hard  frost  stills  the  waters,  skating  parties  come  to  the 
bridge.     The  trolley  nmning  back  and  forth  discharges 


Zhc  :Bri^ge  at  jfunftstown  123 

its  load  of  merrymakers.  Groups  along  the  banks  keep 
up  bright  fires,  and  again  the  scene  is  as  gay  as  in  summer. 
There  is  no  place  in  the  village  where  the  young  people  can 
go  for  ices  on  hot  days,  or  for  tea  in  winter.  The  quiet 
town  guards  the  bridge,  but  lies  a  century  behind  the  life 
which  eddies  round  it. 

This  life  of  the  Antietam  increases  year  by  year,  as 
Hagerstown  grows  larger.  One  cannot  row  for  a  long  dis- 
tance up  the  stream,  but  there  is  an  unfailing  charm  in  the 
quiet  reaches  of  water.  The  wheat  and  com  fields  come 
down  to  the  shore,  and  the  farm  wagons  make  a  fine  color, 
with  their  bay  horses,  and  richly  colored  loads  of  com  and 
grain.  Or  if  one  leaves  the  water  to  stroll  through  the 
village,  there  are  fresh  green  lawns  to  see,  with  pampas 
grass  and  roses,  and  geraniums  and  begonias  set  out  on  the 
stoops.  This  is  the  Funkstown  of  to-day,  but  a  century  ago, 
its  atmosphere  was  very  different. 

One  of  the  earliest  memories  of  the  place  is  when  George 
Washington  in  1790  rode  through  it  on  his  way  to  Hagers- 
town. We  are  told  that  Captain  Rezin  Davis,  with  his 
company  of  militia,  which  numbered  soldiers  of  the  Revolu- 
tion in  its  ranks,  went  down  the  road  a  mile  beyond  Jeru- 
salem, to  meet  the  General  and  escort  him  to  Hagerstown. 
The  whole  country  turned  out  to  see  him. 

He  came  to  make  an  inspection  of  the  Potomac  at 
Williamsport,  where  it  was  proposed  to  establish  the  na- 
tional capital.  But  there  was  another  reason  for  his  interest 
in  the  river.  It  had  long  been  his  ambition  to  develop  some 
scheme  by  which  it  could  be  made  navigable,  and  become  a 
way  of  communication  with  the  Western  country.  With  his 
far-sighted  vision  he  saw,  beyond  the  dreams  of  home  of  the 


124  Zlbe  Hntletam 

settler,  beyond  the  hunting  grounds  of  the  fur  trader,  what 
would  to-day  be  called  Empire.  He  realized  the  greatness 
of  the  Western  country,  as  no  one  else  did  at  that  time,  with 
its  rich  com  lands  and  cattle  lands,  its  rivers  and  prairies; 
and  his  determination  to  bind  it  to  the  United  States 
amounted  to  a  passion.  He  knew  that  self-interest  alone 
is  what  holds  one  country  to  another,  and  that  the  inter- 
course of  trade  makes  them  interdependent;  and  in  order 
to  tie  the  West  to  the  East,  there  must  be  an  easy  and 
convenient  trading  route.  He  deplored  the  necessity  of  a 
long  journey  by  land.  He  knew  that  trade  follows  water, 
and  that  to  draw  it  away  from  a  water  to  a  land  route,  the 
way  must  be  made  easy  and  all  obstacles  removed.  He 
feared  the  Mississippi,  which  was  the  natural  and  easy  path 
for  trade  to  follow,  to  the  port  of  New  Orleans.  It  drew 
the  commerce  of  the  West,  and  would  influence  the  settlers 
to  enter  into  alliance  with  foreign  governments.  He  saw 
in  this  a  continual  menace  to  the  power  of  the  United 
States,  which  must  be  overcome  by  substituting  an  easy 
way  of  bringing  the  produce  of  the  West  to  Eastern  seaports. 

His  scheme  was  to  make  the  Potomac  and  James  rivers 
navigable  to  their  headwaters,  and  establish  short  and  easy 
portages  between  them  and  the  Monongahela,  the  Cheat,  and 
Little  Kanawha.  "Rivers  are  roads  that  move,"  said  Pas- 
chal, and  it  was  by  means  of  rivers,  those  natural  roads, 
that  he  wished  to  draw  the  trade  of  the  West  to  the  East. 

His  object  was  never  attained  in  the  way  he  dreamed  of. 
But  in  another  way  the  end  was  accomplished.  His  de- 
termination to  tie  the  Western  country  to  the  East  by  a  trade 
route  was  so  impressed  upon  his  contemporaries,  that  it 
resulted  in  the  great  road  across  the  mountains,  and  the 


124 


dbe  Bntietam 


settler,  beyond  i\ 
would  to-day  be  • . 
of  the  Western  c( 
its  rich  com  lan-i 
and  his  deter t    i 
amounted  t< 
is  what  \ 
course  of  tra 
to  tie  the  W^ 
convenient  tr 
long  journey 
nd  that  to  d 
must  be  m;« 
feared  the  Mississ 
for  trade  to  follow, 
the  commerce  of  ^^'"■ 
to  enter  into  all 
in  this  a  contin; 
States,  which  must  ^ 
way  of  bringing  1 1  • 

His  scheme  \s 
navigable  to  fh^'  ■ 
portages  betv 
Little  Kanaw 
chal,  and  it  was 
that  he  wished  to 

His  object  was  n- 
But  in  another  v- 
termination  to  tit 
route  was  so  impresse*! 
resulted  in  the  great 


Claggett's'iMrill 


iig  grounds  of  the  fur  trader,  what 
pi  re.     He  realized  the  greatness 
'■>  one  else  did  at  that  time,  with 
!e  lands,  its  rivers  and  prairies; 
bind  it  to  the   United  States 
knew  that  self-interest  alone 
o  another,  and  that  the  inter- 
crdependent;  and  in  order 
here  must  be  an  easy  and  ^ 
ieplored  the  necessity  of  a 
vv  that  trade  follows  water, 
I  water  to  a  land  route,  the 
»bstacles  removed.     He 
T- 11  and  easy  path  . 
It  drew.^ 
ii^  settlers 
:  ls.     He  saw 
'.ver  of  the  United 
V  substituting  an  easy 
est  to  Eastern  seaports. 
ac  and  James  rivers 
ijo),  .  Vif>rt  and  easy 
c  Cheat,  and 
that  move,"  said  Pas- 
natural  roads, 
;t  to  the  East, 
vay  he  dreamed  of. 
^  -mplished.     His  de- 
ry  to  the  East  by  a  trade 
Viis  contemporaries,  that  it 
>ss  the  mountains,  and  the 


^be  Bridge  at  3funk6town  125 

tremendous  amount  of  trade  which  went  over  it  justified  his 
passionate  behef.  Thirty  years  passed  before  the  vision 
was  realized  as  far  as  getting  the  road  through  the  valley 
lay.  All  the  working  on  men,  the  preparation  of  human 
minds  which  has  to  be  gone  through  before  great  things  are 
accomplished,  was  to  ferment  like  leaven  in  the  decades 
after  this  visit. 

The  way  through  the  mountains  which  was  the  path 
ultimately  followed  as  a  trading  route  was  known  to  Wash- 
ington better  than  to  most  men.  He  had  gone  over  the 
Indian  trail  with  Braddock,  though  ill  with  fever,  following 
the  march  of  the  troops  in  a  wagon ;  and  both  to  the  north 
and  south  of  the  Potomac  he  was  acquainted  with  the 
woods.  These  almost  invisible  forest  trails,  faint  and  hard 
to  follow,  were  unerringly  traced  by  the  men  who  had  the 
instinct  for  the  woods.  They  were  as  mysterious  as  those 
currents  which  flow  like  rivers  through  the  yielding  waters  of 
the  ocean.  The  path  of  the  deer  and  the  bear  was  beaten  for 
man  to  follow  in.  The  paleface  who  first  made  his  way 
through  those  thickets,  under  the  dim  green  light  of  the 
forest,  listened  fearful  of  the  Indian,  more  dangerous  to  him 
than  the  wild  animals.  From  time  to  time,  far  apart  yet 
close  enough  to  hold  the  thread  of  the  trail,  the  palefaces 
would  appear  and  disappear,  till  the  wildcat  and  the  chip- 
munk became  accustomed  to  the  sight.  Then  came  a  new 
thing  after  the  moccasined  traveller,  the  pack  horse  bearing 
his  load  of  salt,  carrying  savor  to  the  meats  of  the  West. 
This  precious  freight  must  be  taken  at  the  cost  of  any  danger 
and  toil  to  the  white  men  and  women  beyond  the  range. 
So  the  first  drivers  of  the  pack  horse  followed  the  path  which 
the  hunter  and  hunted  had  made.     Rough  and  hard  to 


126  Zhc  Hnttetam 

follow,  it  was  fascinating  with  the  witchery  of  the  woods, 
aromatic  with  the  odors  of  cedar  and  fern,  that  incense  of 
the  forest  more  exhilarating  to  those  who  have  breathed  it 
than  the  sweetest  peifume. 

This  trail  which  Washington  had  followed  through  the 
mountains  was  the  basis  of  the  great  road  over  the  Alle- 
ghanies.  From  the  mountains  to  the  seaboard,  the  way  was 
less  toilsome,  as  that  part  of  the  country  was  settled  and 
under  cultivation. 

A  traveller  who  came  to  Hagerstown  a  few  years  after 
Washington's  memorable  visit,  praised  the  celebrated 
valley,  lying  between  the  mountains,  and  extending  from 
the  Susquehanna  on  the  north  to  Winchester  on  the  south. 
He  spoke  of  it  as  being  richly  watered  by  navigable  streams, 
and  capable  of  producing  every  article  which  was  raised 
in  the  neighboring  sections.  It  was,  he  said,  inhabited 
chiefly  by  Germans  and  Dutch,  an  industrious  race  of  men, 
and  excellent  farmers.  It  was  by  their  exertions  that  this 
valley  had  been  made  to  assume  the  appearance  of  a  highly 
cultivated  country,  abounding  in  the  conveniences,  and 
some  of  the  luxuries  of  life. 

Among  these  Germans  was  Dr.  Christian  Boerstler,  who 
settled  in  Funkstown.  He  was  one  of  those  enlightened 
men  who  thought  it  better  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  life 
of  a  new  country,  even  though  rude  and  rough,  than  pas- 
sively to  submit  to  the  tyranny  and  taxation  of  the  German 
princes.  Beside  his  own  family,  a  wife  and  six  children, 
he  brought  seventy  other  families  with  him,  and  they  settled 
for  the  most  part  about  Jerusalem.  He  was  a  man  of  more 
than  ordinary  ability,  and  very  much  respected  in  his  own 
country.     He  told  his  Prince,  on  leaving  Germany,  that 


Zbe  'Bvlbgc  at  funRetown  127 

if  he  continued  to  treat  his  subjects  like  slaves,  he  would 
soon  have  none  left  to  rule  over. 

He  was  a  valuable  man  for  the  new  community,  for  he 
brought  with  him  a  great  knowledge  of  agriculture.  At  his 
home  in  Jerusalem  he  cultivated  flowers  and  fruits,  kept 
bees,  and  made  wine  from  his  own  vines.  For  many  years 
he  furnished  the  reading  matter  for  the  famous  Gruber's 
Almanack,  which  was  then  published  only  in  German ;  and 
on  all  such  sound  agricultural  topics  as  manures,  clover,  and 
plaster  for  the  soil,  he  was  considered  the  highest  authority. 

One  public  work  which  he  inaugurated,  and  in  which 
he  interested  Nathanial  Rochester,  and  other  prominent 
men,  has  unfortunately  perished.  Together  they  had  the 
road  between  Jerusalem  and  Hagerstown  planted  on  each 
side  with  Lombardy  poplars,  making  of  it  a  regular  alameda. 
It  was  so  attractive  that  it  was  afterward  continued  from 
Hagerstown  out  on  the  western  road  as  far  as  the  Buck 
Tavern.  By  all  these  interests  and  industries  that  he 
encouraged,  he  was  particularly  useful,  in  counteracting 
the  roving,  unstable  tendencies  of  the  times. 

It  was  through  this  country,  prosperous  and  well  culti- 
vated, producing  both  foodstuffs  and  manufactured  articles, 
that  the  gieat  road  from  East  to  West  passed,  and  it  was 
the  privilege  of  Funkstown  to  lie  on  this  busy  highway, 
and  be  stirred  by  the  pulsing  life  which  flowed  over  it. 
Until  the  railroads  were  built,  the  village  resounded  with 
the  noise  of  its  mighty  movement.  Armies  of  cattle  and 
sheep,  hogs  and  beeves  trudged  over  the  road,  passenger 
coaches  and  mail  stages  flew  over  its  level  floor,  and  an 
endless  train  of  freighters  toiled  over  it,  taking  provisions 
and  articles  of  trade  from  the  seaboard  to  the  West. 


128  ^be  antietam 

The  drivers  of  these  freight  wagons  were  a  class  to  them- 
selves. They  loved  the  road  with  the  enthusiasm  which 
a  free  life  awakens.  Life  spent  in  the  open,  fighting  the 
forces  of  nature,  breeds  a  great  race  not  judged  by  intellec- 
tual standards  but  by  the  qualities  of  manhood.  Only  the 
early  life  of  a  country  can  produce  these  intrepid,  resourceful 
men.  It  looks  back  to  the  heroes  of  its  dawn  and  says, 
"There  were  giants  in  those  days" ;  but  they  were  only  men 
of  a  larger  mould,  and  greater  stature,  bred  by  their  larger 
opportunities.  They  pass  away  as  life  becomes  less  strenu- 
ous. Such  were  the  early  settlers  with  their  steadiness  of 
nerve  and  physical  strength:  the  hunters  whose  pursuits 
developed  keen  observation,  dexterity,  and  activity;  and 
such  the  cowboys  of  yesterday,  living  in  great  spaces, 
spending  nights  and  days  in  the  saddle,  and  afraid  of  neither 
man  nor  devil.  Only  the  youth  of  a  nation  breeds  them, 
and  when  the  need  for  them  is  past,  the  race  dies  out. 

The  early  wagoners  who  took  their  teams  into  the  rough- 
est places,  dependent  on  their  own  resources  to  cope  with 
every  difficulty,  were  of  this  brotherhood.  They  were  hardy, 
adventurous  men  who  often  camped  under  the  stars,  jour- 
neying hundreds  of  miles  through  winter  snows  and  summer 
heat  and  floods.  Their  love  for  the  road  was  so  great  that 
when  the  railroads  came  and  the  freight  wagons  were 
abandoned,  they  pined  for  the  days  that  were  gone.  There 
was  one  old  man  who  had  for  years  driven  his  Conestoga 
wagon  over  the  route.  It  was  all  of  life  to  him,  to  travel 
the  long  road,  pass  and  repass  his  old  companions,  and  stop 
at  his  favorite  wagon  stands.  When  the  railroads  came 
and  he  was  forced  to  put  his  wagon  under  a  shed,  and  turn 
his  horses  to  other  work,  he  pined  so  for  the  familiar  scenes 


128 


Zbc  Hntietam 


The  drivers  of  these  freight  wagons  were  a  class  to  them- 
selves. Thtjy  loved  the  road  with  the  enthusiasm  which 
a  free  life  awakens.  Life  spcnv  in  the  open,  fighting  the 
Uycces  of  nature,  breeds  a  frr"*-  :^  ^^ice  not  judged  by  intellec- 


tual standards  but  by  tht; 
early  life  of  a  country  can  | 
men.     It  looks  back  to  t 
"There  were  giants  in  th<>^ 
of  a  larger  mould,  and     • 
opporttmities.     They } 
ous.     Such  were  the  tv 
nerve  and  physical  s^ 
developed  keen  obser\  . 
such  the  cowboys  of  ye- 


s  of  manhood.     Only  the 

so  intrejiid,  resourceful 

rrs  oi  Its  dawn  and  says, 

'  I'  *    •       were  only  men 

by  their  larger 

i  les  less  strenu- 

th  their  steadiness  of 

hose  pursuits 

y,  and  activity;  and 

ing  in  great  spaces. 


spending  nig^Jf^af^^^pi^^  Bridge  ^t^Piftfedvi^  neither 


man  nor  devil.     Only  tli'  ::  ui  > 

and  when  the  need  for  them  is  past,  t^ 
The  early  wagoners  whr.  took  thei! 
est  places,  dependent  on  their  own  ; 
every  difficulty,  were  of  this  brother) 
adventurous  men  who  often  camp 
neying  hundreds  of  miles  through 
heat  and  floods.     Their  love  for  tl' 
when  the  railroads  came  an* 
abandoned,  they  pined  for  the 
was  one  old  man  who  had  ' 
wa?*^'"  ,iv>.r  the  route,     h 
the       ^      ad,  j>ass  and  re  I  i 


I  needs  them, 
iesout. 

-he  rough- 
cope  with 
V  were  hardy, 
ihe  stars,  jour- 
-vs  and  sucomer 
IS  so  great  that 
^ht  wagons  were 
were  gone.     There 
\en  his  Conestoga 
.;  c  to  him,  to  travel 
i  companions,  and  stop 
Vhen  the  railroads  came 


at  his  favorite  wagon  sta 

and  he  wa?  fwced  to  put  his  wa^n  under  a  shed,  and  turn 

his  horses  to  r>ther  work,  he  pined  so  for  the  familiar  scenes 


11*  r        C**4 


Zbc  Brl^ge  at  jfunhetown  129 

that  he  could  not  leave  the  road.  So  he  broke  stone  for  it, 
and  in  that  way  kept  up  his  outdoor  life  on  the  scene  of 
his  old  work,  cooled  by  the  breeze  and  warmed  by  the  sun, 
as  in  the  old  days  of  wagoning. 

The  wagons  which  these  pioneers  of  trade  took  over  the 
turnpike  were  of  the  famous  Conestoga  make.  They  were 
heavy,  with  broad  wheels,  hooded  to  keep  out  the  weather. 
The  bed  of  the  wagon  was  boat-shaped,  rising  slightly  at 
each  end,  and  painted  blue,  with  the  exception  of  the  upper 
side  boards  which  were  red.  The  white  tops,  rounded  and 
gathered  to  a  circle  at  the  ends,  suggested  shaker  bonnets. 
With  a  tar  bucket  for  the  wheels,  a  feed  trough  for  the 
horses,  and  a  bulldog  for  company,  the  outfit  was  complete. 
The  six  horses  stepped  out  proudly,  and  from  their  necks 
sprang  thin  iron  arches  from  which  dangled  the  bells. 

The  gear  which  the  horses  wore  was  very  heavy.  The 
hip  straps  were  ten  inches  wide,  and  the  back  bands  fifteen. 
The  traces  were  heavy  chains  made  up  of  short,  thick  links. 
It  was  a  feat  of  strength  to  harness  the  teams,  and  many  a 
tavern  boy  groaned  at  the  task  on  a  freezing  winter  morning. 
The  wagon  saddles,  of  thick  wood,  covered  with  black  leather, 
were  ready  for  the  drivers;  and  the  wagoner  sitting  surveying 
the  broad  backs  of  his  horses,  as  they  stepped  out  on  a  clear, 
frosty  morning,  with  the  bright  sun  warming  the  hedges, 
and  the  birds  singing  gayly,  was  like  the  carter's  lad  of  the 
old  song,  "As  happy  as  a  king. " 

At  night  they  put  up  at  houses  for  wagoners,  where  the 
yards  often  held  hundreds  of  animals.  They  fared  roughly 
indoors  as  well  as  out,  sleeping  on  the  floors  wrapped 
in  their  blankets,  with  their  feet  to  great  fires.  But  the 
old  time  wagon    houses    kept  good  tables,  and  plenty  of 


I30  Ebe  Hntletam 

pure  whiskey,  so  that  their  food  and  drink  were  of  the 
best. 

There  were  eccentric  characters  among  them,  whose 
pecuHarities  were  accentuated  by  their  independent  Hves. 
One  man  always  wore  a  full  suit  of  buckskin.  Another 
had  a  fancy  for  black  horses,  and  would  never  drive  any 
others.  This  wagoner  had  a  deeply  rooted  distrust  of  banks 
and  would  never  keep  his  money  in  one.  As  owing  to  his 
roving  life  he  could  not  hide  his  stocking  under  the  hearth- 
stone, he  invented  a  savings  bank  of  his  own,  by  boring 
holes  of  the  right  size  to  hold  his  coins  in  blocks  of  wood. 
These  he  carefully  plugged  up,  and  carried  about  with  him^ 
stuffed  full  of  money.  One  would  think  these  portable 
banks  would  have  given  him  as  much  anxiety  as  the  town 
institutions.  One  giant  took  a  pride  in  having  all  his  gears 
made  a  full  inch  wider  than  the  regulation  size,  and  as  they 
were  heavy  enough  of  the  usual  pattern,  the  tavern  boys 
groaned  over  handling  them. 

They  smoked  big  cigars,  made  in  Pittsburg  and  called 
"Stogies,"  after  their  wagons;  they  swore  like  troopers, 
and  exchanged  wits  like  costers.  Said  one  Breakiron  to 
another  called  Puffenberger,  with  a  good  assortment  of 
oaths,  when  they  met  in  a  narrow  way  and  neither  would 
turn  out  for  the  other : 

"My  name  is  Breakiron,  and  I  'm  as  hard  as  my  name. 
But  yours  is  a  windy  name. " 

"Yes,"  said  Puffenberger,  with  his  own  choice  of  exple- 
tives, "my  name  is  a  windy  name,  and  there  's  thunder  in 
it!" 

Strange  things  happened  to  them  on  their  trips.  Once 
the  snow  on  the  mountains  near  Cumberland  was  dyed  red 


Zbc  Brlbae  at  jfunk^town  131 

as  blood  for  miles,  when  a  barrel  of  Venetian  red  rolled  off 
its  wagon,  and  scattered  its  contents  in  its  downward  flight. 
Once  a  wagon  load  of  oysters  was  wrecked  by  some  accident, 
and  every  one  along  the  pike  gathered  to  the  feast.  When 
something  went  wrong  with  a  man's  wagon,  all  the  fra- 
ternity who  came  by  stopped  and  helped  him.  Sometimes 
as  many  as  twenty  or  thirty  wagons  were  held  up  in  this 
way. 

Sometimes  a  wagon  yard  would  hold  thirty  six-horse 
teams  on  a  single  night,  with  a  hundred  mules  from  Ken- 
tucky, and  a  thousand  hogs  from  Indiana.  The  amount 
of  noise  made  by  such  a  company  of  hogs  was  not  soon 
forgotten  by  one  who  heard  it. 

A  Senator  was  quoted  as  saying,  when  the  road  was 
under  discussion,  that  "hay  stacks  and  corn  stalks"  would 
walk  over  it.  His  colleague,  annoyed  at  such  levity,  said 
he  could  not  imagine  how  com  stalks  and  hay  stacks  could 
walk  over  his  bowling-green  of  a  road.  It  was  explained  to 
his  literal  mind  that  they  would  walk  over  it  in  the  shape  of 
fat  cattle  and  hogs,  horses  and  mules,  and  the  prophecy  was 
fulfilled.  People  living  to-day  can  remember  when  the 
wide  turnpike  between  Boonsboro  and  Funkstown  was  level 
from  fence  to  fence,  and  filled  with  a  moving  procession  of 
teams  and  saddle  horses,  coaches  and  driven  animals.  As 
they  pass  now  over  the  thread  of  road  which  goes  down  the 
middle  of  the  old  space,  passing  an  occasional  motor  car 
or  country  team,  they  sigh  for  the  days  of  its  glory,  when 
the  great  throng  that  travelled  it  went  through  the  valley, 
and  crossed  the  Antietam  by  its  stone  bridge. 

It  is  little  wonder  that  men  who  spent  their  lives  on 
the  road  left  it  with  regret,  and  how  they  clung  to  its  mem- 


132  Zbc  Hntletam 

ories  is  shown  in  the  story  of  the  old  wagoner  who,  after  he 
turned  farmer,  kept  his  beloved  Conestoga  freighter  under  a 
shed,  swept  and  clean,  and  carefully  covered  from  the 
weather.  The  boys  of  the  neighborhood  were  allowed  to  come 
and  look  at  it,  and  hear  his  stories  of  wagoning;  and  old 
wagoners  who  visited  him  would  renew  their  recollections 
of  turnpike  travel  at  the  sight. 

The  men  who  kept  the  taverns  and  wagon  stands  along 
the  pike  were  often  intelligent  and  well-informed,  and  had 
a  good  deal  of  influence  in  the  community.  Many  of  them 
were  musicians,  and  a  house  where  one  could  be  sure  of 
hearing  the  fiddle  played,  and  a  good  song  sung,  was  always  a 
favorite  with  the  wagoners.  Like  most  men  who  lead  out- 
of-door  lives,  they  liked  music,  and  nothing  pleased  them 
better  than  to  pass  an  evening  listening  to  familiar  songs, 
and  joining  in  a  good  chorus.  In  the  same  way  the  cow- 
boys of  the  West  love  their  music  around  the  camp-fire, 
and  any  one  who  plays  to  them  is  welcome,  even  if  his  in- 
strument is  nothing  better  than  the  strident  accordion. 
Woodsmen  in  lumber  camps  have  almost  always  among  their 
number  one  who  can  play  the  violin,  and  entertain  the  camp 
with  gay  or  melancholy  airs:  and  sailors,  with  their  ditties 
and  chanteys,  have  a  musical  folk-lore  of  their  own.  So  it 
was  characteristic  of  the  journeying  wagoners  to  love  the 
heavenly  maid,  and  a  tavern  where  the  host  could  play  the 
old  tunes  on  his  violin  was  always  a  favorite. 

Among  the  most  popular  tavern  keepers  was  an  English- 
man called  William  Ashton,  who  kept  a  tavern  in  the  west 
end  of  Funkstown.  He  was  a  great  athlete,  and  was  noted 
all  over  the  country,  from  Virginia  to  Pennsylvania,  for  his 
feat  of  once  having  leapt  clean  over  a  Conestoga  wagon 


^be  Brl&ge  at  jTunRetown  133 

with  the  aid  of  a  leaping  pole.  While  he  kept  his  tavern 
there  he  always  had  two  teams  on  the  road,  hauling  from 
Hagerstown  to  Terre  Haute,  in  Indiana,  a  four  months* 
journey. 

There  were  several  taverns  in  Hagerstown,  such  as 
"The  Swan,"  "The  Bell,"  the  "Lafayette  Inn,"  which  is 
still  standing  at  the  corner  of  South  Potomac  Street  and  the 
"Baltimore  and  Wheeling  turnpike,"  or  Baltimore  Street, 
and  the  "Columbian  Inn."  This  latter  was  attractively 
advertised  as  having  a  first-rate  garden,  well  enclosed.  But 
the  wagoners  preferred  places  outside  of  Hagerstown,  which 
was  a  little  too  stylish  for  them.  They  preferred  the  more 
homely  wagon  stands  and  taverns  of  Funkstown  and  the 
inns  on  the  turnpike  to  the  west  of  Hagerstown. 

We  might  divide  into  the  First,  the  Second,  and  the 
Third  Estate,  the  different  classes  doing  regular  business 
on  the  National  Road.  To  the  last  would  belong  the 
drovers,  and  all  those  taking  herds  of  cattle,  sheep,  and  hogs 
for  long  distances  over  it.  Of  the  Second,  would  be  the 
wagoners,  whose  freighters  carried  the  trade  of  the  country, 
East  and  West.  The  First  would  be  easily  represented  by 
the  stage  drivers,  carrying  mails  for  the  government,  and 
the  travelling  public. 

There  were  various  lines  of  stages,  owned  by  companies 
and  individuals.  One  of  the  most  important  was  the  Stock- 
ton line,  and  others  were  the  People's  line,  the  Good  In- 
tent, and  the  June  Bug.  The  latter  was  so  called  because 
it  was  prophesied  of  it  that  it  would  not  last  as  long  as  the 
season  of  June  bugs.  The  Good  Intent  was  a  temperance 
line,  and  the  drivers  had  a  song  expressive  of  their  good 
intentions,  of  which  the  chorus  ran : 


134  ^Ibe  antietam 

For  our  agents  and  drivers. 

Are  all  fully  bent 
To  go  for  cold  water. 

On  line  Good  Intent. 
Sing,  Go  it,  my  Hearties, 

Cold  water  for  me ! 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  somewhat  chilly  chorus  heartened 
them  up  on  a  cold  morning,  though  one  would  think  they 
would  have  willingly  exchanged  for  a  cup  of  hot  coffee. 

One  of  the  drivers  on  the  Good  Intent,  named  Peter 
Burdine,  had  a  turn  for  rhyming,  and  one  of  his  jingles  has 
survived  him.     It  ran. 

If  you  take  a  seat  on  Stockton's  Line, 

You  are  sure  to  be  passed  by  Peter  Burdine. 

Peter  was  in  fact  a  famous  driver,  but  he  was  passed  on 
one  occasion  by  a  rival,  who  promptly  retorted  with  this 
verse : 

Said  Billy  Willis  to  Pete  Burdine, 

You  had  better  wait  for  the  Oyster  Line. 

The  point  of  this  witticism  is  lost  to-day,  but  no  doubt 
Peter  felt  the  sting  of  it. 

Many  notable  men  were  on  the  road.  One  of  these  was 
James  Reeside,  always  wearing  a  scarlet  waistcoat  and  tie. 
He  was  first  a  driver  and  afterwards  a  proprietor  on  the 
Stockton  line.  The  story  went  that  he  was  walking  with  a 
friend  in  Baltimore  one  day,  and  they  paused  before  the 
window  of  a  tailor's  shop  where  a  piece  of  scarlet  cloth  was 
displayed.  His  companion  (Colonel  Johnson,  of  Kentucky) 
remarked  that  it  was  the  coaching  color,  and  Reeside  ought 
to  be  wearing  it. 


Zhc  Bridge  at  ifunJietown  135 

"I  '11  have  a  vest  made  of  that  piece  if  you  will,"  said 
he.  Reeside  agreed,  and  they  went  in  to  order  one  apiece. 
But  Reeside  not  only  ordered  a  waistcoat,  but  a  tie  of  the 
same  color,  and  vowed  that  as  long  as  he  lived  he  would 
wear  no  others.  He  kept  his  word,  and  James  Reeside, 
six  feet  five  inches  high,  with  his  scarlet  waistcoat  and  tie, 
and  long  drab  overcoat,  was  one  of  the  best  known  and 
most  respected  men  on  the  road,  and  often  seen  both  in 
Hagerstown  and  Funkstown. 

Another  coaching  character  was  Redding  Bunting.  He 
was  a  driver  on  the  Stockton  line,  and  taller  by  an  inch  than 
Reeside.  He  was  considered  one  of  the  most  trustworthy 
and  resourceful  men  on  the  road,  and  made  two  famous 
trips  after  the  railroad  was  begun. 

On  a  certain  year  the  Presidential  message  was  considered 
of  such  importance  that  it  was  thought  it  should  reach  the 
farthest  limit  of  western  travel  as  quickly  as  possible.  To 
Red  Bunting  was  entrusted  the  duty  of  seeing  it  carried  to  the 
end  of  the  stage  line,  at  the  highest  rate  of  speed.  He  went 
to  Frederick,  at  which  point  the  railroad  ended,  and  where 
the  message  was  delivered  to  him.  Taking  his  seat  beside 
the  driver  of  the  stage-coach,  he  directed  the  journey  till 
they  reached  Wheeling,  where  the  stage  road  ended.  He 
urged  the  speed  to  its  utmost,  and  the  drive  of  two  hundred 
and  twenty-two  miles  was  accomplished  in  twenty-three 
hours  and  a  half.  For  this  feat  he  was  personally  thanked 
by  the  President. 

On  his  second  famous  trip  he  took  up  his  task  at  Cum- 
berland, to  which  point  the  railroad  had  come.  This  time 
he  was  charged  with  delivering  the  proclamation  of  war 
with  Mexico.     It  was  important  to  have  the  news  known 


136  Zbc  anttetam 

all  over  the  country  as  early  as  possible.  On  this  occasion 
Redding  Bunting  himself  handled  the  reins,  and  made  the 
trip  of  one  hundred  and  thirty-one  miles  in  twelve  hours. 

These  were,  of  course,  record  trips.  It  was  customary  all 
along  the  line  to  change  horses  every  twelve  miles,  but  to 
help  the  pace,  where  there  were  steep  hills  a  pair  of  horses 
was  kept  at  the  foot  in  charge  of  a  man  called  a  postilion, 
who  hitched  them  in  front  of  the  leaders  and  helped  take  the 
coach  up  the  hill.  Then  they  were  unhitched,  and  waited  for 
the  next  stage  to  come  along.  When  travel  was  at  its 
height,  as  many  as  thirty  coaches  would  pass  a  given  point 
in  a  day,  fifteen  in  one  direction  and  fifteen  in  the  other. 

The  houses  for  the  entertainment  of  travellers  along  the 
National  Road  were  excellent  as  a  rule.  Henry  Clay,  who 
was  a  constant  traveller  over  it,  had  a  great  fondness  for 
their  country  fare.  He  maintained  that  they  set  as  good 
tables  as  could  be  found  anjrwhere  in  the  country,  and 
especially  delighted  in  the  buckwheat  cakes,  with  their 
beautiful  gray  just  turned  to  a  golden  hue. 

A  tavern  anecdote  has  been  preserved  of  another  great 
man,  General  Jackson,  who  confounded  the  road  with  his 
simple  tastes.  He  was  obliged  to  stop  at  some  country  place 
along  the  line,  and  the  people  planned  to  entertain  him 
with  a  banquet  at  the  tavern.  The  tavern  keeper  himself 
waited  upon  him,  to  find  out  his  preference  for  the  bill  of 
fare,  and  to  his  "What,  sir,  would  you  prefer  for  dinner?" 
received  the  astonishing  answer,  "Ham  and  eggs."  This 
was  too  much  for  the  host,  who  stammered  a  desire  to  do 
him  more  honor;  but  the  General  stoutly  held  to  ham  and 
eggs,  and  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  there  was  no  better 
dish,  where  the  material  was  good. 


Zhc  "BvibQC  at  jfunF^town  137 

This  recalls  a  story  of  a  breakfast  to  which,  in  the  old 
days  of  San  Francisco,  a  millionaire  invited  a  party  of 
friends,  at  the  ancient  and  far  famed  Lick  House.  The 
gentlemen  from  the  country  prepared  for  a  feast,  dreaming 
of  turbot  and  quails,  broiled  kidneys  and  chicken  livers, 
when  the  man  of  millions  calmly  ordered  sausage,  saying 
there  was  nothing  equal  to  good  sausage  for  breakfast. 

Different  houses  had  their  specialties.  One  man  was 
famous  for  his  spring  chickens  and  flannel  cakes.  Another 
for  hot  biscuits  and  coffee,  and  this  man's  popularity  was 
well  deserved,  for  nothing  is  more  grateful  to  the  tired  travel- 
ler, after  a  night  in  the  stage,  than  good,  hot  coffee  with 
country  cream,  and  nothing  harder  to  find.  Still  another 
house  supplied  fried  chicken  and  waffles,  with  real  country- 
cured  ham,  one  of  the  best  dishes  in  Maryland. 

A  number  of  the  taverns  along  the  National  Road  were 
kept  by  women,  who  by  reason  of  their  lonely  state,  or  the 
trifling  habits  of  the  other  sex,  were  forced  to  support  them- 
selves. We  may  be  sure  they  stood  in  awe  of  no  man,  no 
matter  how  high  his  station.  There  is  a  story  told  of  a 
Chief  Justice  who  was  obliged  to  stop  at  a  tavern  in  a  small 
place  along  the  road,  and  on  whose  table  every  day  was  set 
a  savory  roast  pig.  The  dish  was  peifect  of  its  kind,  but 
after  a  while  he  was  inclined  to  say,  as  other  men  have  done, 
"Something  too  much  of  this,  methinks!"  So  one  day  in 
magisterial  tones  he  ordered  the  waitress  to  remove  from 
his  sight  the  too  familiar  pig.  He  reckoned  without  his 
hostess,  for  that  determined  woman  appeared  from  the 
back  premises,  where  she  was  superintending  the  judicial 
dinner,  and  sternly  addressed  him. 

"You  are  the  Chief  Justice,"  said  she,  "and  run  the 


138  TTbe  Hntietam 

Court,  but  I  am  the  chief  cook  and  run  this  dining-room.   * 
That  pig  must  stay" ;  and  it  stayed. 

The  taverns  of  Funkstown  were  not  behind  the  rest  in 
giving  the  traveller  the  best  of  Maryland  fare,  the  country 
ham  fit  for  an  epicure,  sweet  and  dry,  and  exquisitely 
flavored.  The  farmers'  wives  and  daughters  brought  in 
their  fat  ducks  and  geese,  chickens  and  turkeys,  and  there 
was  plenty  of  good  whiskey  and  cider  from  still  and  press. 

It  was  natural  that  the  taverns  should  now  become  what 
the  mills  had  been,  meeting  places  where  the  news  of  the  day 
was  heard  and  exchanged,  and  where  meetings  were  ap- 
pointed for  the  transaction  of  business,  and  where  taxes  were 
collected.  We  see  in  old  newspapers  many  notices,  appoint- 
ing taverns  through  the  country  for  the  latter  purpose. 

The  railroad  came,  and  the  feelings  of  all  the  turnpike 
men  were  bitter  over  the  change.  Stage  drivers  and  wagon- 
ers, tavern  keepers  and  pike-boys,  saw  their  occupation 
gone.  The  stage  driver  could  no  more  be  an  autocrat  in  his 
small  kingdom  but  must  move  on  a  level  with  other  men. 
The  wagoner  must  turn  farmer,  or  keep  a  house  of  entertain- 
ment in  some  quiet  place.  The  tavern  keeper  must  see  the 
decline  of  his  trade,  and  dull  days  follow  stirring  ones.  The 
refrain  of  an  old  song  has  come  down  to  us  expressing  their 
feeling  at  the  new  order  of  things: 

Now,  all  you  jolly  wagoners  who  own  good  wives, 
Go  home  to  your  farms,  and  there  spend  your  lives. 
When  the  com  is  all  cribbed  and  the  small  grain  is  good. 
You  '11  have  nothing  to  do  but  curse  the  railroad. 


Chapter  XIII 
The  Bridge  at  Hagerstown 

nPHE  bridge  next  along  the  Antietam  above  Funkstown 
*  was  Hager's  bridge,  just  outside  of  Hager's-Town,  to 
give  it  its  old  spelling.  It  was  neither  one  of  the  oldest,  being 
built  twenty-five  years  after  the  turnpike  bridge  at  Funks- 
town,  nor  one  of  the  best;  but  it  was  near  the  town  which 
was  the  centre  of  activity  for  the  valley — Hagerstown,  a 
place  known  all  over  the  civilized  and  much  of  the  uncivilized 
world.  It  would  be  hard  to  go  anywhere,  to  travel  to  the 
remotest  parts  of  the  earth,  and  not  find  some  one  who  was 
bom  there,  or  had  lived  there,  or  been  there  at  some  time 
and  known  its  people.  At  a  Mexican  bullfight,  in  the  Trans- 
vaal, on  the  Panama  Canal,  in  China  or  Japan,  Chili  or  Peru, 
mention  the  name  of  Hagerstown,  and  it  strikes  familiarly 
upon  some  ear. 

It  was  founded  by  a  German,  Jonathan  Hager,  spoken 
of  in  the  old  newspapers  of  his  time  as  a  "German  adven- 
turer. "  The  term  "adventurer  "  had  not  the  meaning  then 
which  attaches  to  it  now.  Then  it  was  complimentary. 
One  who  adventured  was  a  man  who  braved  danger  and 
took  risks.  It  is  an  instance  of  the  constant  changes  taking 
place  in  a  language  that  it  has  come  to  such  a  different 
meaning.     The  time  of  the  adventurer  of  the  frontier  has 

^39 


I40  Zbc  Hntletam 

passed,  and  it  is  now  a  sorry  term,  and  implies  that 
adventurous  ways  are  ways  of  darkness. 

Jonathan  Hager  was  a  man  of  good  sense  and  judg- 
ment. He  had  the  qualities  which  make  men  trusted  and 
leaving  his  native  country  he  went  out  into  the  wilderness 
to  find,  not  only  freedom  to  worship  God,  as  did  the  northern 
pilgrims,  but  also  to  keep  the  money  he  made  instead  of  hav- 
ing to  give  it  back  to  the  state  in  taxes.  He  attracted 
other  men  to  him,  and  a  strong  colony  of  Germans  settled 
in  the  valley  of  the  Antietam.  The  titles  of  his  land  grants 
show  him  for  a  matter-of-fact  man.  He  called  them  by  such 
plain  names  as  "Stony  Batter,"  "New  York,"  "Hager's 
Choice,"  and  "Brightwell. "  On  one  of  these  tracts  he 
founded  the  town,  and  named  it,  in  honor  of  his  wife,  "Eliza- 
beth-Hager's-Town. " 

There  were  so  many  German  settlers  in  the  country 
surrounding  the  town,  that  the  German  tongue  was  spoken 
on  the  streets,  preached  in  the  pulpits,  and  printed  in  early 
newspapers  and  the  Almanack;  and  Hagerstown  is  to-day 
a  land  of  sauerkraut  and  sausages,  of  Schweitzer  cheese 
and  good  rye  bread,  of  beer  and  pretzels.  There  is  a  little 
shop  in  the  heart  of  town  which  is  a  little  Germany.  Its 
window  is  full  of  the  German  colored  pottery  which  Bume- 
Jones  loved.  There  are  bits  of  toys  so  cheap  and  plentiful 
that  enough  can  be  bought  for  five  cents  to  make  the  heart 
of  a  child  dance  for  joy,  and  his  brain  addled  with  arithmetic. 
The  writer  once  took  such  a  little  boy  there  one  morning, 
with  that  magnificent  sum  to  spend.  He  wandered  about 
and  looked  at  the  pistols  (two  for  a  penny),  at  the  engines 
and  cars  (a  penny  apiece) ,  and  at  the  more  expensive  toys 
costing  as  much  as  two  and  three  cents  each.     The  benign 


Zl)c  Bribge  at  Ibageretown  141 

old  German  woman  who  waited  on  him,  with  her  white  apron 
girt  about  her  ample  waist,  produced  these  wonders,  but  even 
her  calm  temper  at  last  gave  way  over  his  confusion,  and 
when  the  little  boy  was  last  seen  she  was  somewhat  sharply 
insisting  on  his  laying  out  the  seemingly  unlimited  five  cents 
according  to  her  advice. 

It  is  these  touches  of  little  life  which  show  the  heart 
of  a  town.  At  the  High  School  exercises  there  was  always  on 
the  programme  the  funny  boy,  whose  inimitable  drollery 
took  the  form  of  German  dialect;  and  it  was  so  perfect  be- 
cause "the  old  people,"  his  grandparents,  really  talked 
English  in  just  that  way  when  they  used  the  language. 

The  houses  with  their  stoops,  flush  with  the  sidewalks, 
their  little  gardens  in  the  rear;  the  fashion  of  living  up- 
stairs over  the  shop ;  the  prevalence  of  Lutheran  and  German 
Reformed  congregations,  all  tell  of  a  strong  underlying 
German  stock.  The  famous  Gruber's  Almanack,  still 
printed  yearly  in  the  two  languages,  was  originally  a  German 
publication.  The  rabbit  is  the  patron  saint  of  Easter,  and 
at  Eastertide  the  windows  are  full  of  bunnies,  eating  carrots, 
sitting  on  nests,  and  in  all  sorts  of  droll  and  quaint  attitudes. 

In  Jonathan  Hager's  day  the  town  was  a  busy  one. 
Spinning  and  weaving,  dyeing  and  coverlet-making,  kept 
many  of  its  women  busy.  There  were  chair-makers  and 
clock-makers,  saddlers  and  cabinet-makers,  hand-workers 
in  every  trade.  Because  of  the  bad  roads  and  difficulties  of 
transportation,  almost  everything  necessary  for  living  was 
made  on  the  spot.  But  that  luxuries  were  brought  in  is 
shown  from  the  quantities  of  old  mahogany  furniture  of 
English  make  still  to  be  unearthed  at  sales,  the  Sheffield 
plate  and  silver  table  pieces,  the  Wedgwood  platters  and 


142  Zbc  antietam 

lustre  pitchers,  and  the  brass  candlesticks,  which  still  make 
Hagerstown  a  happy  hunting  ground  for  the  collector. 

Life  in  the  country  houses  was  on  a  luxurious  scale.  The 
stables  were  full  of  horses,  and  the  tables  covered  with  good 
things  to  eat,  for  the  Marylander  has  always  been  noted  as  a 
judge  of  good  living.  Whiskey  flowed  freely,  to  such  an 
extent  indeed  that  many  a  jolly  squire  found  himself  mort- 
gaged to  his  last  acre. 

The  two  elements  which  subsisted  side  by  side,  the  Ger- 
man and  the  English,  were  entirely  different  in  spirit.  There 
was  a  certain  burgher  thrift  and  comfort  in  one,  while 
elegance  and  extravagance  marked  the  other.  To  this  may 
be  attributed  the  fact  which  is  very  noticeable  in  looking 
over  old  newspapers  of  a  century  or  more  ago.  The  names 
of  the  English  families  have  very  largely  disappeared  from 
the  community  and  their  descendants  are  scattered  far 
and  wide.  They  are  met  with  on  the  California  coast,  the 
Colorado  mountains,  and  the  Oregon  cattle  ranches.  Like 
the  English  of  to-day,  they  follow  the  frontier. 

The  Germans,  on  the  other  hand,  remained  and  prospered. 
In  reading  these  old  records,  name  after  name  is  seen  which  is 
familiar  in  Hagerstown  to-day.  Families  will  often  be  found 
living  where  their  great-grandparents  did.  The  old  trades 
are  carried  on,  and  could  those  early  German  settlers  have 
looked  forward  down  the  years,  they  would  have  seen  their 
great-great-grandchildren  living  where  they  established  their 
households,  reaping  as  they  sowed,  and  gathering  as  they 
planted.  They  would  see  them  better  clad,  better  educated, 
enjoying  more  advantages  than  in  those  rude  early  days, 
but  still  with  the  same  good  German  thrift  and  industry. 
The  blue-eyed  young  man,  fair  as  a  native-born  Teuton^ 


142 


dlK  Biittetam 


lustre  pit 
IT 


sticks,  which  still  make 

and  for  the  collector. 

>  a  luxurious  scale.    The 

liibles  covered  with  good 

.  N  always  been  noted  as  a 

1  freely,  to  such  an 


i  that  n. 

'ound  himself  mort- 

his  last  acTi 

The  two  elements  which 

y  side,  the  Ger- 

man  and  the  Eng'' 

"-rit.     There 

was  a  certain    1 

ne,  while 

elegance  and  ext 

'  his  may 

be  attributed  th 

looking 

old  newspapers  >>\  .t  ceniury 
of  tlie  English  famili.      Hag^f^-  l^idg 

The  names 
\9-   ■             ^(^6.  from 

the  community  ar^   i 

iMKtisd  far 

and  wide.     They  are  mt 

I'oast,  the 

Colorado  mountains,  and  the  0' 

^.     Like 

the  English  of  to-day,  they  foll(  - 
The  Germans,  on  the  other  hand . 

!  and  prospered. 

Inn;.    ^        -   -  .     ■-       :.r,^.  ■- 

is  seen  which  is 

ill- 

v%  al  often  be  found 

h 

1      The  old  trades 

'd  on,  a 

ettlers  have 

rward  down  the  years. 

0.  seen  their 

(iren  living 

,i)li  shed  their 

h 
plai. 

ring  as  they 
'cLler  educated. 

enjoy  i..,- 
but  still 

rude  early  days, 
hrift  and  industry 

The  blue-«yi 

ative-bom  Teuton. 

»^jj^^^^^sr  -           ,.'  ^I^^^Sb           ^I 

n^^H^                  '  .**'-., ^^J^BBBBB^B 

:.r,    _^  i 

/l^^^flHH^jjl 

'' 'nKi'^H 

^  t 

1    ;        '^f^^^^l^^H 

^\#^^^H 

v^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B^^^I 

..•• 


Zhc  Bribge  at  tbageratown  143 

carries  on  the  old  business;  the  handsome  young  woman 
brings  up  a  large  and  healthy  family  in  the  old  house,  with 
its  arched,  fan-lighted  door,  to  play  in  the  same  halls  and 
garden  where  her  father  and  his  sisters  and  brothers  played. 

Walking  one  day  in  the  churchyard  of  Stratford-on- 
Avon  with  a  Hagerstown  man,  he  noted  the  inscriptions  on 
the  old  flagstones  and  commented  on  the  number  of  Wash- 
ington County  people  who  had  borne  those  names.  So 
many  of  them  used  to  be  near  Hagerstown,  the  Dalls  and 
Darbys,  the  Lawrences  and  Buchanans,  and  many  others 
now  scattered  wide  over  the  United  States.  Hardly  any  of 
these  names  survive  in  the  town,  except  as  they  are  seen  on 
the  flagstones  (like  those  of  the  English  churchyard)  of  the 
Episcopal  cemetery,  neglected  and  half  obliterated. 

For  many  years  the  life  of  Hagerstown  pursued  the  even 
tenor  of  its  way.  Its  citizens  were  always  ready  to  flare 
into  intense  patriotism,  and  become  impassioned  advocates 
in  a  Presidential  election ;  but  in  the  main  they  were  absorbed 
in  the  local  interests  of  the  valley.  It  was  still  the  outcome 
of  its  environment,  limited  by  its  geographical  situation. 
Its  connection  with  the  outside  world  gradually  increased, 
as  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railroad  and  the  Chesapeake 
and  Ohio  Canal  came  into  operation.  Both  of  these  institu- 
tions were  well  sponsored,  for  the  first  stone  for  the  bed  of  the 
railroad  was  put  in  place  by  the  venerable  Charles  Carroll 
of  Carroll  ton,  and  the  first  spade  of  earth  for  the  canal  turned 
by  John  Quincy  Adams.  These  outlets  helped  it  to  wider 
interests.  But  Hagerstown  was  destined  to  a  great  awaken- 
ing, which  was  to  make  a  vital  change  in  the  character  of  the 
town.  One  hesitates  to  touch  even  lightly  on  the  subject 
of  the  Civil  War,  for  a  volume  would  not  be  large  enough  to 


144  tTbe  Hntletam 

hold  the  record  of  its  happenings  in  Hagerstown  alone ;  but 
a  reference  to  it  must  be  made  in  order  to  understand  the 
development  of  the  town. 

At  first  the  war  pressed  lightly  on  Maryland,  which 
was  mainly  a  highway  for  the  passage  of  bodies  of  troops. 
Numbers  of  soldiers  went  through  it,  and  dwellers  by  country 
roads  became  used  to  the  sight  of  marching  men,  streaming 
down  the  pikes  and  over  the  bridges.  The  people  of  Hagers- 
town felt  the  intense  excitement  of  the  time,  and  quiet 
Williamsport  on  the  Potomac  was  the  scene  of  one  of  the 
earliest  engagements  of  the  war. 

As  time  passed  the  appearance  of  the  troops  changed. 
Soldiers  of  the  regular  army  gave  way  to  volunteers,  men 
equally  in  earnest,  but  without  the  discipline  and  smartness 
of  the  regulars.  News  of  the  battles  reached  Hagerstown, 
but  there  was  always  great  uncertainty  as  to  their  real  issue, 
the  truth  being  often  withheld  for  the  sake  of  its  influence 
on  the  public.  After  a  brilliant  Confederate  victory  those 
prudent  people  whose  sympathies  were  always  with  the 
winning  side  hoisted  their  colors,  and  ran  about  wear- 
ing red-and-white  ties.  As  the  fighting  pressed  nearer 
home,  gray  uniforms  as  well  as  blue  were  seen  on  the 
streets.  There  were  encounters,  and  skirmishes,  heads 
out  of  windows,  hastily  drawn  back  as  the  firing  came  too 
close. 

At  times  Northern  officers  were  stationed  in  the  town, 
and  a  very  charming  society  sprang  up.  The  Southern 
belles  tried  their  witchery  on  the  Northerners,  and  wounded 
many  victims.  They  were  great  partisans  and  ardent 
rebels.  Soldiers  patrolling  the  streets  would  see  lovely 
visions  in  hoop-skirts  and  dainty  bonnets  coming  toward 


Zbc  Brlb^e  at  Ibageretown  145 

them,  with  heads  turned  scornfully  away,  and  skirts  drawn 
aside  as  if  from  contamination. 

Even  honeymoons  were  affected.  One  couple  spent 
theirs  in  Baltimore  under  unusual  conditions.  The  groom, 
a  notorious  book-worm,  who  was  on  parole  and  could  not 
show  himself  on  the  street,  spent  his  days  in  studious 
enjoyment,  while  the  bride  went  about  with  her  friends  in 
search  of  amusement. 

Sometimes  Confederate  troops  held  the  town,  always 
showing  the  wear  and  tear  of  war  in  their  worn  clothing. 
A  shabby  youth  comes  up  the  hill  from  the  Marsh  Run,  He 
is  of  one  of  the  best  families  of  the  South,  courtly  as  he  is 
brave,  and  engaging  as  he  is  shabby.  He  is  on  his  way  to 
call  on  some  Southern  ladies,  and  determined  to  have  some 
sign  of  the  gentleman  about  his  attire,  he  has  spent  an  hour 
on  his  knees  by  the  Run,  washing  out  his  handkerchief  and 
drying  it  in  the  sun,  so  as  to  have  it  daintily  clean. 

Distinguished  men  and  memorable  figures  passed  and 
repassed  before  the  people  of  Hagerstown.  One  of  the  most 
striking  was  General  Custer  riding  down  the  street,  brave  as 
a  lion,  with  his  flowing  sun-gold  locks,  wearing  a  velvet 
jacket  on  whose  lapel  was  embroidered  the  guidon  of  his 
troops.  His  was  a  type  not  often  seen,  the  dandy  and  gal- 
lant, always  playing  to  the  galleries  and  craving  applause, 
yet  in  the  final  moment  of  accomplishment  a  leader  of  men, 
with  all  the  wild  dash  and  courage  of  the  fighting  Anglo- 
Saxon. 

Like  the  visions  seen  in  a  kaleidoscope,  the  pictures 
were  constantly  changing.  The  magnificent  armies  of  the 
North,  the  tattered  armies  of  the  South,  came  and  went. 
After  the  thunders  of  Antietam  the  town  was  filled  with 


146  Zbc  Hntletam 

wounded;  people  drove  to  the  battlefield  and  saw  the  ter- 
rors of  war,  the  accumulated  suffering  of  thousands.  They 
became  oppressed  with  the  greatness  of  the  struggle,  and  its 
near  approach.  Then  came  the  armies  of  the  South  march- 
ing by  thousands  toward  Gettysburg  to  the  wild  strains  of 
"Dixie,"  one  of  the  most  thrilling  airs  that  ever  led  men 
into  battle.  After  that  terrible  fight  Hagerstown  lay  in 
perilous  case,  between  two  armies,  the  Confederates  to  the 
west,  the  Federals  to  the  east.  The  long  line  of  Lee's 
watch  fires  reached  along  the  ridge  from  Hagerstown  to 
the  river.  A  battle  seemed  inevitable,  but  once  more 
Hagerstown  escaped. 

The  impoverished  Southern  army  was  now  fain  to  supply 
itself  by  force.  Up  to  this  time  the  rights  of  property  had 
been  respected.  Now  the  case  was  desperate.  The  valley 
of  Virginia  was  exhausted,  its  crops  consumed,  its  soil 
trodden  into  sterility.  Maryland  realized  that  it  must 
now  pay  tribute  and  farmers  ran  their  horses  off  to  the 
mountains  for  safety,  and  merchants  hid  their  goods. 

One  day  a  weary  and  dusty  body  of  men  rode  into  the 
town,  and  dropped  from  their  horses  to  the  sidewalk  in  front 
of  the  tavern  where  the  stages  came  in  with  the  mails.  The 
owner  of  the  stages,  whose  old  stone  house  stood  on  the 
opposite  corner,  saw  them  and  guessed  them  to  be  Mosby 
and  his  men.  He  strolled  across  and  fell  into  conversation 
with  them,  and  invited  them  over  to  his  house  for  a  mint 
julep.  The  very  name  of  a  mint  julep  rises  like  perfume  to 
the  nostrils  of  the  Southerner,  and  the  tired  and  thirsty  men 
followed  him  without  parley.  The  son,  a  young  lad  to  whom 
war  was  a  great  game  and  full  of  excitement,  was  sent  down 
into  the  garden  for  the  mint.     The  raiders  rested  in  the  cool 


Zbc  36rit)ge  at  Ibaaeretown  147 

house,  and  refreshed  themselves  with  the  fragrant  julep; 
but  the  boy,  who  had  sent  in  the  mint  by  a  young  negress, 
was  running  down  the  Funkstown  pike  as  fast  as  his  legs 
would  take  him,  and  turned  back  the  stages  just  outside  of 
Funkstown  at  the  bridge,  and  saved  his  father's  horses  for 
that  time  at  least. 

The  crucial  moment  for  Hagerstown  now  came.  On  a 
June  morning  General  McCausland  with  fifteen  hundred 
men,  dirty  and  worn  beyond  any  yet  seen,  sullen  and  danger- 
ous, rode  up  the  Sharpsburg  pike,  down  Potomac  Street  to 
the  Square,  and  took  possession  of  the  town.  At  the  rumor 
of  their  coming  numbers  of  people  fled,  for  it  was  known 
that  they  were  in  grim  earnest,  and  ready  to  carry  out  any 
threat  without  mercy. 

The  men  were  drawn  up  on  the  streets  and  kept  under 
arms,  for  it  was  known  that  a  body  of  Northern  troops  was 
not  far  away.  McCausland  sent  for  the  officials  of  the  town, 
with  the  demand  that  it  furnish  him  at  once  with  twenty 
thousand  dollars  in  money,  and  fifteen  hundred  suits  of 
clothing  for  his  men.  All  of  the  town  officials  had  taken 
flight,  with  the  one  exception  of  the  Treasurer.  He  appeared 
before  the  General  with  a  friend,  and  to  the  demand  for 
money  promised  to  do  what  he  could  to  raise  it,  but  the 
clothing  he  said  it  was  impossible  to  furnish,  as  the  shops 
had  been  practically  stripped  of  their  goods.  He  was  told 
that  money  and  clothes  must  be  forthcoming  within  one 
hour,  or  Hagerstown  would  be  burned  to  the  ground. 

The  unhappy  gentleman  went  off  to  consult  with  all  the 
most  influential  men  he  could  find,  and  they  determined  to 
satisfy  the  demand  as  far  as  it  was  possible.  Again  the 
Treasurer  appeared  before  the  General,  and  told  him  the 


148  ^be  Bntietam 

money  would  all  be  paid,  but  the  clothing  for  fifteen  hundred 
men  could  not  be  procured,  it  was  an  impossibility. 

"Then,  by  the  Living  God,"  cried  McCausland,  "I  '11 
burn  the  town." 

Again  the  Treasurer  set  off  to  try  to  save  Hagerstown. 
The  man  whose  influence  in  the  community  at  that  time 
was  paramount,  was  ill  and  crippled.  He  was  the  President 
of  the  Hagerstown  Bank,  wealthy  as  wealth  was  counted  in 
those  days,  a  strong  man  and  used  to  dealing  with  men.  He 
was  the  only  one  who,  it  was  felt,  could  cope  with  the  situa- 
tion, but  he  was  unable  to  go  so  far  as  the  Market  House. 
McCausland,  after  some  trouble,  was  induced  to  come  down 
to  see  him  at  the  Court  House,  and  listen  to  what  he  had  to 
say. 

Ill  and  disabled  as  he  was,  the  invalid,  helped  by  his 
negro  body  servant  who  never  left  him,  made  his  painful 
way  to  the  Court  House  on  crutches,  and  met  the  stern  and 
irritable  General.  All  the  tact  and  subtlety  of  the  sick  man 
were  employed  to  mollify  McCausland.  He  represented  that 
if  the  town  were  burned  for  its  failure  to  do  the  impossible, 
it  would  injure  many  warm  friends  of  the  South,  and  accom- 
plish nothing  good.  The  money  would  be  raised  among 
the  Hagerstown  banks  at  once,  and  as  much  clothing  as 
could  be  collected  would  be  turned  over.  At  last  the  General 
softened,  and  agreed  to  the  terms  if  they  were  carried  out 
within  three  hours,  foi  he  was  anxious  to  get  away  as 
quickly  as  possible.  Then  there  was  a  running  to  and  fro, 
and  the  names  of  many  citizens  were  signed  to  the  notes  on 
the  banks;  and  such  a  motley  collection  of  garments  as 
never  was  seen  before  was  brought  into  the  Court  House 
and  piled  upon  the  floor.     From  shops  and  private  houses. 


^be  Bridge  at  Ibageretown  149 

suits  new  and  old,  ragged  and  handsome,  bales  of  cloth,  shoes 
and  hats,  everything  that  could  be  brought  together  was 
poured  out  as  a  libation  to  the  God  of  War,  and  must  have 
caused  almost  as  much  amusement  and  dismay  as  pleasure 
in  the  minds  of  those  who  fell  heirs  to  it. 

The  money  was  handed  over,  a  receipt  taken  for  it,  and 
for  the  clothing,  and  the  soldiers  rode  out  of  Hagerstown 
as  rapidly  as  possible.  The  town  was  unharmed,  only 
saddled  with  a  debt  which  it  took  years  to  wipe  out,  but 
saved  from  the  fate  of  Chambersburg,  which  later  was 
burned  by  McCausland  for  its  failure  to  supply  his  demands. 

The  war  came  to  an  end,  and  Hagerstown  had  passed 
safely  through  its  perils  and  dangers,  but  the  spirit  of  the 
community  was  entirely  changed  by  it.  Maryland  men 
had  never  been  extensive  slaveholders;  they  were  kindly 
and  even  indulgent  masters,  and  many  of  them  had  always 
been  opposed  to  that  form  of  property.  But  the  loss  of  such 
slaves  as  they  had  made  the  cultivation  of  their  fertile 
farms  and  manors  so  much  less  profitable,  that  many  land- 
holders were  drawn  to  the  town,  to  try  for  new  channels  of 
activity.  Many  mills  along  the  streams  which  had  been 
closed  at  the  time  of  the  Southern  raids  into  Maryland  were 
never  reopened.  Manufactures  on  a  larger  scale  were 
established,  the  town  grew,  and  from  being  in  its  character 
something  of  an  overgrown  village,  came  forward  with  this 
wider  development  to  take  its  place  among  cities. 

To-day  it  has  passed  far  beyond  the  time  of  adventure 
and  romance.  Many  mills  still  turn  along  the  Antietam, 
but  they  are  small  industries  now.  Steam  and  electricity 
have  outstripped  water  power,  and  the  murmur  of  the  mill- 
wheel  is  drowned  in  the  noise  of  machinery.     There  are 


ISO  Zbc  antictam 

many  factories  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  the  noon 
hour  lets  loose  every  sort  of  whistle.  The  deep,  musical, 
organ  tones  of  one  set  an  example  of  what  such  things  can 
be.  Other  ambitious  ones  shriek  through  a  whole  scale  of 
piercing  notes,  and  the  more  commonplace  blare  and  scream. 
But  the  surroundings  of  the  town  are  still  as  lovely  as  when 
William  Faux  drove  down  the  mountain  from  the  Gap 
near  Boonsboro,  and  saw  it  surrounded  with  small  moun- 
tains, and  admired  its  Dutch  gothic  spires.  The  Blue 
Ridges  give  it  a  beautiful  setting,  and  fine  moimtain  air. 
Looking  down  from  some  high  hill,  in  the  evening  light  when 
the  sun  has  set  in  a  clear  sky,  suffusing  it  with  gold,  one  sees 
the  town  like  a  long  crescent,  one  tip  lying  beside  the  old 
Crawford  Works,  the  other  resting  by  the  egg-shaped  dome 
of  the  Fair  buildings.  Softened  by  the  light  smoke  from 
household  fires,  with  electric  lights  glimmering  out  in 
bright,  star-like  points,  it  is  a  fair  sight  and  the  men  who 
founded  it  would  have  rejoiced  if  they  could  have  seen  the 
end  of  their  adventure. 

Among  the  traces  which  the  English  colonists  left  behind 
them,  are  some  old-country  words  still  used  by  their  de- 
scendants. The  word  ' '  poke  "  is  heard  throughout  the  valley 
in  its  meaning  of  a  small  bag,  and  the  market  people  will 
offer  to  put  one's  peaches  " in  a  poke. "  But  a  more  unusual 
survival  in  the  vernacular  of  the  day  is  the  expression,  "the 
dik, "  used  by  Hagerstown  men  of  all  ages.  Speaking  of 
their  small-boy  days  of  bathing  in  the  Marsh  Run,  it  is 
always  alluded  to  as  "bathing  in  the  dik,"  though  no  one 
could  tell  why.  It  was  just  "the  dik,"  of  course,  and 
everybody  called  it  so.  But  happening  upon  a  description 
of  the  earliest  days  of  England,  in  an  allusion  to  Romney 


^be  Brl^ge  at  Ibageretown  151 

Marsh,  the  very  same  word  was  found,  used  in  describing 
the  channels  of  water  cutting  through  the  Marsh,  which  were 
called  "the  diks,"  thus  explaining  the  Hagerstown  boys' 
word,  and  proving  its  long  descent. 

Every  year  for  a  week  in  October  is  held  the  Great 
Hagerstown  Fair,  which  makes  the  name  of  Hagerstown 
famous  throughout  the  country.  The  town  is  given  up  to  it, 
swamped,  every  interest  submerged  in  the  rush  of  it.  An 
immense  tide  of  humanity  pours  in  from  the  neighboring 
States.  The  stock  farms  of  the  West  send  their  exhibits 
of  sullen  bulls,  powerful  and  resentful,  and  their  cows  and 
calves.  Goats,  sheep,  and  pigs  assemble  in  pens,  and  poultry 
of  all  classes  fills  a  great  hall.  A  hill  is  given  up  to  farm 
machinery,  and  all  the  latest  inventions  for  economic  farm 
labor  are  shown  there.  The  racing  stables  are  full,  and 
trotting  sulkies  and  running  horses  continuously  circle 
around  the  track. 

These  are  the  serious  matters  of  the  Fair.  But  that 
wonderful  fringe  hangs  tawdry  and  tinselled  on  its  edges  that 
follows  the  skirts  of  every  fair  the  world  around.  The 
mountebanks  and  tumblers,  the  gypsy  girls  and  swart 
Italians,  the  thousand  cheats  and  shams  by  which  people 
are  tricked  out  of  their  money,  are  all  here,  making  the 
picturesque,  the  speciously  gay  and  enticing  features  of  the 
Fair,  for  simple  people. 

It  is  not  a  great  selling  fair,  like  the  horse  fairs  of 
Normandy,  the  autumn  fair  at  Munich,  the  Paris  fair  where 
the  provinces  send  their  sausages  and  hams,  their  olives 
and  all  the  produce  which  tickles  the  palates  of  Parisians; 
nor  like  the  great  Nijni-Novgorod,  where  the  hand-workers 
of  great  areas  display  their  needlework,  their  embroideries, 


152  Zbe  Hntletam 

their  rugs  and  metal  work,  for  the  world's  market.  It  is 
rather  an  exhibitor's  fair  where  the  produce  of  the  county 
is  displayed,  and  where  the  farmer  sees  the  latest  inventions 
in  farm  implements,  and  the  highest  results  of  stock  breeding. 

It  opens  on  Tuesday  morning,  a  cool  October  day  with 
the  air  like  wine.  The  trees  along  the  drive  are  like  flaming 
torches,  scarlet  and  ruddy  gold.  The  crowd  is  happy  and 
orderly,  the  animals  in  their  stalls  are  sleek  and  impudent, 
their  keepers  cheerful  and  jolly,  sitting  about  on  the  straw 
or  going  around  with  buckets  in  hand.  There  is  always  the 
parade  of  buckets  in  this  quarter.  Little  boys  cut  about  with 
yard  sticks  and  whips  in  hand,  full  of  joy  and  impishness. 

Wednesday  comes,  and  the  crowd  grows.  The  trains 
come  in  with  heavy  loads,  and  the  sights  in  the  streets  begin 
to  be  amusing.  A  company  of  soldiers  is  come  to  make  one 
of  the  sights  of  the  Fair.  The  soldier  boys  take  the  town, 
exciting  the  boys  and  girls.  Such  scenes  as  this  take  place : 
A  train  comes  in  with  its  load  of  pleasure  seekers.  The 
soldiers,  mostly  very  young  and  cheeky,  line  up  on  each  side 
of  the  narrow  pavement,  and  the  passengers  have  to  pass 
between,  to  a  running  accompaniment.  When  it  is  the  fair 
sex,  such  cries  as  "Oh,  what  a  peach!"  "Did  you  ever!" 
"Oh,  my!"  "Get  on  to  her,  boys!"  are  called  up  and  down 
the  line.  The  women  take  it  according  to  temperament. 
The  very  young  ones  blush,  and  look  perfectly  delighted. 
Some  giggle,  some  set  up  their  heads  and  look  scornful,  some 
suffer  torments  of  embarrassment.  The  boys  repeat  their 
cries  of  delight.  Even  elderly  women  are  greeted  with 
respectful  enthusiasm.  Young  men  are  slapped  on  the 
back.  Then  on  a  sudden  the  fun  breaks  up,  the  soldiers 
lock  arms,  and  march  off  down  the  street. 


Jibe  Bridge  at  Ibaaerstown  153 

Here  comes  a  group  of  Virginians,  sporting  men  in  riding 
togs,  well  pleased  with  themselves  and  with  everything 
about  them.  One  is  young,  blue-eyed,  merry,  and  impudent, 
making  up  to  the  girls,  and  amusing  his  companions.  The 
others  laugh  at  him  and  with  him.  A  tandem  comes  by, 
Virginia  again,  entered  for  the  Horse  Show.  All  the  smartest 
horses  and  riders  of  the  sporting  class  come  from  over  the 
border.  The  crowd  increases,  the  town  begins  to  look 
trampled  and  untidy.  The  stream  of  life  pours  and  pours 
down  the  street  to  the  Square,  and  the  Fair  Ground.  Fakirs 
cry  their  wares,  cab  drivers  shout  for  fares  as  they  drive 
standing. 

And  on  the  grounds  the  rush  goes  on,  the  dancers  smile, 
the  people  of  the  booths  all  struggle  for  notice,  and  make 
frantic  bids  for  audiences.  The  ring-and-knife  booths  tempt 
the  little  boys,  who  want  a  knife  for  a  nickel  badly.  Here  are 
"hot  sausages,"  with  a  roll,  cooked  while  you  wait;  and 
the  candy  makers'  booths,  where  the  men  are  dressed  like 
French  cooks,  with  white  caps.  The  country  boys  and  girls 
are  a  sight  worth  seeing;  fresh-colored  and  awkward, 
and  neat  as  pins.  It  is  the  great  time  of  the  year  for 
them.  Two  or  three  bands  play,  the  racers  fly  round  and 
round  the  track,  tight-rope  walkers  do  their  spider- 
tricks,  and  the  baby  elephant  pulls  his  sheet  about  him, 
and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams.  But  this  is  only 
Wednesday. 

Thursday  comes,  the  great  day  of  the  Fair,  and  incredible 
crowds  pour  into  the  town,  hour  after  hour.  It  is  a  great 
river  of  humanity,  never  ending.  Old  and  young,  gentle 
and  simple,  white  and  colored,  crowd  and  thrust  and  elbow. 
They  pour  into  the  grand  stand  early  in  the  day,  so  as  to  be 


154  ^be  antietam 

sure  of  seats.  Yet  outside  on  the  roadway,  the  artery  of 
the  Fair  Ground,  the  dense,  packed,  determ-ned  horde 
struggles  on,  wedged  tight,  so  that  if  one  man  moves,  he 
moves  twenty  with  him.  Impossible  to  call  to  friends  across 
the  mass  of  hats,  the  shoving  shoulders.  Whips  crack, 
yardsticks  flourish,  teasing  toys  whiz  about  one's  face. 
Inflated  pigs,  inflated  sausages  squeal  and  collapse.  The 
crowd  in  the  main  hall  moves  like  a  river.  The  poultry 
exhibit  is  thronged.  The  refined  and  weary  take  refuge  in 
the  art  exhibit,  in  the  hope  of  getting  more  space  and  air. 
The  grand  stand  is  packed,  for  Thursday  is  the  day  of  the 
big  purses  and  the  star  day  of  the  Horse  Show.  And  like  a 
three-ringed  circus,  one  knows  not  where  to  look,  for  beside 
these  two  events  the  performers  opposite  the  stand  do  their 
stunts.  The  balloon  ascends,  the  high  diver  shoots  down- 
ward through  the  air.  The  Virginia  girls  drive  in  the  show 
ring,  slim  and  well  groomed  and  straight  as  young  pine 
trees.  They  wear  high  hats,  and  are  very  sporting  in  ap- 
pearance. Later  they  ride  their  jumpers  in,  and  take  the 
hurdles,  first  riding  their  thoroughbreds  slowly  up  and 
down  in  the  sunlight.  Round  and  round  the  track  go  the 
jockeys  in  silks,  and  the  numbers  show  out  the  time  of  the 
race.  Always  during  the  course  of  the  Fair  some  sulky  is 
disabled  or  some  jockey  thrown.  The  crowd  is  sorry,  but  the 
Fair  goes  on.  Pick  him  up  and  carry  him  off.  The  little 
boys  suck  candy  and  slap  you  on  the  back  just  as  merrily, 
though  in  the  hospital  near-by  some  one  lies  with  broken 
bones.  It  is  one  of  the  features  of  the  Fair.  By  night,  such 
a  jaded  and  weary  town! — strewn  with  papers  and  peanut 
shells,  with  tags  of  ribbons  and  Fair  badges,  all  the  dregs 
and  leavings  of  the  great  day.     The  gate-keepers  count  their 


Ebe  Brit)0e  at  IbaGcretown  155 

money  far  into  the  night.     It  was  the  biggest  day  ever 
known  at  the  Fair. 

Friday  comes,  a  good,  rational  day.  The  great  per- 
spiring, pushing  mass  is  not  there,  only  a  healthy  crowd  on 
pleasure  bent.  The  fakirs  begin  to  take  down  their  tents. 
Animals  move  out  of  their  stalls  for  the  homeward  march 
down  country  roads,  or  the  trip  by  train  to  distant  States. 
Pigs  get  obstinate,  and  make  up  their  little  minds  which 
way  they  want  to  go,  to  the  delight  of  the  bystanders,  and 
the  rage  of  their  drivers.  The  cattle  march  out  with  dignity, 
and  horses  frisk  as  they  move  into  the  sunlight.  Only 
the  odds  and  ends  of  the  Fair  go  on,  but  it  is  the  day  when 
school  children  go  in  free,  so  there  is  still  a  gay  crowd. 
There  are  congratulations,  jubilations,  merrymaking,  as  the 
Fair  dies  out;  something  to  look  back  upon  for  a  year, 
something  to  look  forward  to  for  a  lifetime.  For  the  Fair- 
seekers  begin  when  infants  in  arms,  and  come  gray-headed 
and  bent,  as  full  of  the  wonder  of  it  as  ever.  Even  now, 
men  remember  when  it  was  little  more  than  a  country 
picnic  where  the  farmers  gathered  with  their  wives  and 
children,  and  the  races  were  run  by  men  riding  their  own 
horses. 

It  is  a  far  cry  back  to  the  days  of  Jonathan  Hager,  when 
he  planted  Hagerstown  by  the  banks  of  the  Antietam.  He 
saw  it  take  root  and  grow,  and  he  died  on  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  where  he  was  superintending  the  moving  of  logs 
to  be  used  in  building  the  German  Reformed  church  in 
Hagerstown.  One  fell  on  him,  and  crushed  him  instantly. 
So  he  was  buried,  and  Jonathan  Hager,  his  son,  took  his  place 
in  the  community.     He  too  was  a  brave  man,  and  fought 


156  Zbc  Hntletam 

in  the  Revolutionary  War,  was  imprisoned  in  the  dungeons 
of  Halifax  for  two  years,  came  home  at  last,  and  married  the 
beautiful  Mary  Orndorff.  He  lived  a  life  of  mingled  use- 
fulness and  adventure,  as  did  his  father,  and  died  young. 
Their  descendants  are  living  in  Hagerstown  to-day. 

It  is  a  pity  that  of  all  the  bridges  over  the  Antietam  the 
least  attractive  is  the  one  at  Hager's  mill.  The  water 
roars  over  the  mill-dam  above  it,  and  boys  sit  and  fish  from 
the  coping,  as  they  have  done  for  generations;  but  it  is  not 
so  pleasing  as  the  others.  The  mill  beside  it  is  still  in  opera- 
tion. Some  unfortunate  memories  attach  to  the  spot. 
Not  only  because  of  the  death  of  Colonel  Hager  at  the  saw- 
mill which  the  present  one  replaces,  but  in  the  mill  which 
now  stands,  a  mysterious  murder  was  committed,  the  truth 
about  which  has  never  been  known.  The  body  of  a  man 
was  foimd  lying  on  the  floor,  done  to  death,  and  no  one 
knew  how  he  came  there.  The  master  miller  at  the  time 
the  death  occurred  was  believed  to  have  been  guilty,  but 
after  standing  trial  in  Frederick  was  acquitted. 


Chapter  XIV 
The  New  Bridge  and  the  Bridge  at  Old  Forge 

nPHE  next  bridge  up  the  stream  from  Hagerstown  is  a 
■'■  small  but  pretty  one  of  two  arches,  on  the  road  which 
goes  from  Hagerstown  to  the  moimtain  by  way  of  Cavetown 
and  Smithsburg.  It  is  always  spoken  of  as  the  bridge  on 
the  Cavetown  turnpike,  or  at  Bridgeport.  It  is  a  sociable 
little  bridge  with  a  log  house  close  to  it  where  the  tolls  are 
collected,  and  where  neighbors  always  seem  to  be  passing 
the  time  of  day.  Children  run  up  and  down  the  road  and 
chickens  play  about.  Near  the  toll-gate  a  few  houses  seem 
to  be  trying  to  make  the  beginning  of  a  village,  such  as  so 
often  springs  up  along  a  Maryland  turnpike,  strung  for  a 
distance  along  the  wayside.  Where  the  creek  curves  away 
from  the  bridge  is  an  old  house,  two-storied,  long  and  flat, 
with  quaint  green-bordered  windows  set  in  its  white  walls, 
which  seems  to  have  come  right  out  of  a  Kate  Greenaway 
picture  book.  And  just  across  the  bridge  an  old  log  house 
and  a  small  stone  building,  very  solid  and  substantial, 
complete  a  charming  group,  which  relieves  the  tedium  of  a 
rather  monotonous  turnpike. 

This  is  the  bridge  they  called  New  in  its  youth,  and  whose 
title  clung  to  it  after  it  was  quite  respectably  old.  Curiously 
enough,  the  predecessor  of  this  stone  bridge  was  also  called 

157 


158  ^be  Hntletam 

New,  being  spoken  of  in  the  old  records  as  far  back  as  1823 
as  the  "New  Bridge  on  the  Charlton  Gap  road."  The 
present  bridge,  which  was  built  in  1830,  by  Silas  Harry,  as  its 
tablet  sets  forth,  has  a  certain  trim  neatness,  and  is  much 
more  youthful  in  appearance  than  the  next  one  up  the 
stream,  which  is  in  part  sixty  years  its  junior. 

There  was  an  advertisement  in  the  Hagerstown  paper, 
the  year  this  bridge  was  completed,  for  a  schoolmaster  to 
teach  the  school  near  the  New  Bridge,  and  asking  for  one 
who  could  teach  in  both  German  and  English,  showing  that 
the  German  element  was  strong  in  this  neighborhood. 

About  three  quarters  of  a  mile  up  the  creek  as  the  crow 
flies,  but  apparently  much  farther  on  account  of  the  many 
windings  and  loops  made  by  the  stream,  is  a  bit  of  old 
Antietam  worth  a  special  trip  to  see.  It  used  to  be  known 
as  John  Wolfersberger's  ford,  and  beside  it  was  the  "Paper 
Mill  of  John  Rohrer,  lying  near  the  Marsh. "  It  is  now"  called 
Trovinger's  mill.  To  reach  it  one  leaves  the  dusty  turn- 
pike to  follow  a  country  road.  The  creek  runs  between 
hills  which  shut  it  in,  and  the  rest  of  the  world  out,  and  the 
ford  seems  miles  away  from  Hagerstown,  instead  of  being 
within  a  short  drive  of  it. 

Just  at  the  ford  is  the  old  mill,  a  building  so  ancient  and 
hoary  that  the  stones  are  loosening  in  its  walls.  A  tablet 
gives  the  date  of  its  erection,  177 1.  It  is  a  two-story  build- 
ing, long  and  low.  The  trees  droop  their  branches  down 
over  its  peaked  roof,  and  on  one  side  a  crazy-looking 
gallery  runs  the  whole  length  of  the  second  story.  The 
water  arch  is  directly  under  the  middle  of  the  building. 
Beside  the  broad  stream  with  its  lapping  waters,  shut  snugly 
in  by  the  hills,  this  old  quiet  place,  with  its  venerable  mill, 


Zl)e  flew  3Brt^ge  159 

has  the  air  of  being  one  hundred  miles  away  from  modern 
towns,  and  one  hundred  years  behind  these  busy  days.  The 
water  sHdes  gently  by,  a  team  comes  splashing  through 
the  ford,  and  the  murmuring  of  the  mill  embodies  in  its 
sound  the  soothing  influences  of  the  spot. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  water  is  a  group  of  farm- 
houses, and  a  level  spot  of  green  meadow.  Somewhere  here, 
about  two  hundred  yards  from  the  mill,  and  between  the 
mill  and  the  farmhouses,  history  says,  was  once  a  log  church. 
More  than  a  hundred  years  have  passed  since  it  was  de- 
stroyed, so  that  only  a  dim  tradition  exists  of  the  place  where 
it  stood.  It  was  called  "Antietam  Church,"  and  was  the 
earliest  place  of  worship  of  the  German  Lutherans  in  this 
region,  and  so  far  as  is  known  it  was  the  first  church  of  any 
kind  to  be  built  in  the  valley.  It  was  made  with  loopholes 
in  the  walls,  so  that  it  could  be  used  as  a  place  of  defence 
against  the  Indians,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Antietam prayers 
were  offered  and  hymns  sung  for  the  first  time  in  the  history 
of  the  county,  in  a  building  dedicated  for  public  worship. 

Here  it  existed  and  struggled  for  forty  years.  Pastors 
came  to  it,  with  quaint  German  names,  serving  many  par- 
ishes and  preaching  in  them  by  turns.  Pastor  Haushihl 
came  from  Frederick,  and  following  him  Pastor  Schwerdt- 
feger,  and  the  older  and  younger  Kurtz.  There  was  Pastor 
Wildbahn,  of  whom  it  is  recorded  that  he  sang  most  beauti- 
fully, and  in  Germany  had  been  the  leader  of  a  choir.  He 
was  also  a  gifted  writer.  And  for  two  years  as  a  supply, 
there  preached  here  the  distinguished  Frederick  Augustus 
Muhlenberg,  of  the  eminent  Muhlenberg  family,  who  were 
noted  for  their  work  in  the  Lutheran  Church  in  its  early  days 
in  America.     It  was  after  his  service  here  that  he  became 


i6o  Zf)c  antietam 

a  member  of  the  Continental  Congress,  and  afterward  a 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives.  After  him  came 
one  Pastor  Young,  who  came  to  this  country  as  a  Hes- 
sian soldier,  and  was  ordained  after  the  war  was  over, 
as  were  quite  a  number  of  his  fellows.  All  these  pious 
men  preached  and  taught  in  this  secluded  spot  beside  the 
Antietam. 

We  find  from  its  history  that  the  congregation  had  its 
troubles  and  differences.  There  was  dissension  over  the 
younger  Kurtz.  For  some  reason  he  was  not  agreeable  to 
the  people,  who  petitioned  to  be  served  by  the  elder.  It 
was  during  this  period  of  discontent  that  Dr.  Muhlenberg 
came  to  minister  to  them.  From  the  time  of  the  first  settle- 
ment of  the  country  until  it  was  disturbed  and  unsettled 
by  the  War  of  Independence,  the  congregation  met  and  wor- 
shipped here,  but  there  was  a  significant  sentence  written  of 
it  by  a  pastor  at  that  trying  time.  He  said:  "They  now 
consist  of  from  fifty-five  to  sixty  families,  many  of  whom 
with  respect  to  their  spiritual  welfare  were  thoroughly 
ruined  by  the  late  war,  so  that  little  improvement  is  to  be 
expected  of  them. " 

The  tract  on  which  the  church  stood  was  named,  in  the 
fashion  of  the  times,  "God  Save  the  Church."  After  the 
war,  and  when  the  congregation  had  worshipped  here  for 
forty  years,  it  was  determined  to  build  a  new  church  in 
another  place.  The  land  on  which  Antietam  church  stood, 
was  sold,  with  the  exception  of  one  half-acre  on  which 
stood  the  church  and  the  giaveyard;  for  there  were  already 
graves  made  beside  it,  with  names  and  dates  carved  on  the 
stones,  which  should  have  been  sacredly  preserved.  In  the 
deed  of  sale  a  reservation  was  made,  that  there  should  be 


a^iqmuT 


i6o  Zbc  Hntlctam 

a  mt '  ic  Coatinental  Congress,  and   afterward   a 

Spea  iouse  of  Representatives.    After  him  came 

Voung,  who  came  to  this  coimtry  as  a  Hes- 

and   was   ordained   after  the  war  was  over, 

pULe  a' number  of  his  fellows.     All  these   pious 

Tnen  preached  and  taught  in  this  secluded  spot  beside    the 

Antietam. 

We  find  from  its  history  that  the  congregation  had  its 
troubles  and  differences.  There  was  dissension  over  the 
younger  Kurtz.  For  some  reason  '  ■  ~  not  agreeable  to 
the  people,  whn  rvt-.t.  :•.•.!  t*    '.  the  elder.      It 

was  during  >r    Muhlenberg 

c^me  to  !(  •  first  settle- 

ment of  xht  ■  and  unsettled 

by  the  WTrhe  Bridge  oniciliei  Cavetown  T urn pifc^  wor- 
shipped here  *>  t  itten  of 
it  by  a  past'.-  'They  now 
consist  of  from  many  of  whom 
with  respec'  \ere  thoroughly 
ruined  by  the  isle  v  ^  miprovement  is  to  be 
expected  of  them 

Tlie  tract  on  wis  ->^r\  ^-as  named,  in  the 

fashion  of  the  times,  h  "    After  the 

war.  and  when  the  con:  n  had  v  ped  here  for 

vas  determined  to  build  a  new  church  in 

land  cwi  which  Antietam  church  stood, 

ion .  of  one  tialf-acre  on  which 

>v,ii  ^.'.i  i.j.   .  .  iveyard;  for  there  were  already 

^«v=ide  it,  wiiii  names  and  dates  carved  on  the 

i  have  been  sacredly  preserved.     In  the 

was  made,  that  there  should  be 


Zbc  IRew  Bdbge  i6i 

a  right  of  passage  through  the  land,  to  be  kept  open,  free 
and  clear  forever,  to  the  site  of  the  church. 

The  new  church  was  built  on  another  farm.  There  was  a 
touch  of  human  nature  about  the  naming  of  it  which  makes 
one  smile.  Two  sites  were  offered,  and  in  order  to  settle  be- 
tween them,  two  young  men,  one  of  each  family  contending 
for  the  honor,  drew  lots.  One  was  named  Peter  Beard 
and  the  other  Michael  Stephey.  The  lot  fell  to  Peter,  and 
so  the  new  church  was  named  St.  Peter's  Church.  Had  the 
lot  fallen  to  Michael,  St.  Michael  would  have  been  its  Patron 
Saint ;  but  the  time  of  the  sword  was  passed,  and  as  the  need 
of  founding  it  upon  a  rock  was  evident,  it  was  well  that  the 
lot  fell  to  Peter. 

The  new  church  was  a  fine  one.  It  was  built  of  logs  and 
had  a  gallery  running  around  three  of  its  inner  walls,  with  a 
goblet-shaped  pulpit  and  a  sounding  board  overhead.  Best 
of  all,  it  had  a  pipe  organ,  to  add  strength  and  sweetness  to 
the  singing  of  the  choir. 

But  the  case  of  the  old  church  by  the  Antietam  was  sad. 
A  bare  half -acre  was  left  of  "God  Save  the  Church, "  and  its 
name  might  now  seem  to  have  been  prophetic.  The  build- 
ing was  pulled  down  and  the  logs  put  to  various  uses. 
Worse  than  this,  reverence  for  the  graves  wore  away,  and 
the  tombstones  were  gradually  abstracted  to  use  in  making 
walls  and  culverts.  In  time  not  a  single  trace  remained  of 
this  oldest  landmark  of  the  Lutheran  Church  in  the  Hagers- 
town  valley,  and  there  is  nothing  to  tell  us  just  where  it 
stood.  What  should  have  been  preserved  as  a  revered  relic 
of  those  earliest  days  is  entirely  lost.  The  congregation  sur- 
vived its  Laodicean  lapse,  and  became  once  more  strong  and 
spiritual,  but  the  poor  records  of  the  dead  were  lost  forever. 


i62  ^be  antletam 

There  is  much  to  interest  one  in  the  study  of  these  early 
German  congregations,  the  Reformed  and  Lutherans,  the 
Baptists,  Dunkers,  and  Mennonites.  They  were  one  of  the 
strongest  influences  in  establishing  the  character  of  the  life 
of  the  valley,  and  to-day  their  customs  are  indelibly  im- 
pressed upon  it.  It  would  take  a  theologian  to  tell  of  their 
differences  of  faith,  but  fundamentally  they  were  inspired  by 
the  same  desire,  to  get  back  to  the  plain  word  of  God,  as 
taught  in  the  Bible,  and  to  worship  in  sincerity  and  with 
simplicity.  As  the  ceremony  and  pomp  of  religion  has  been  in 
every  country  the  inspiration  of  art  and  architecture,  so  the 
want  of  it  left  these  worshippers  with  undeveloped  aesthetic 
tastes.  As  their  beliefs  and  practices  were  severely  simple,  so 
their  places  of  worship  were  unadorned.  At  first,  seeing  one  of 
their  old  stone  churches,  without  tower  or  spire,  with  neither 
Gothic  windows,  nor  symbolical  ornament,  they  have  a  look 
of  incompleteness.  They  stand  in  country  places,  massive 
and  oblong,  with  plain  windows  of  clear  glass.  They  might 
almost  be  schoolhouses.  But  after  seeing  them  oftener  one 
feels  that  there  is  something  in  their  severity  which  answers 
to  a  need  for  restraint  in  human  nature,  and  one  can  under- 
stand that  many  a  man  and  woman  may  look  back  with 
grateful  feelings  to  the  church  in  the  woods,  and  be  thankful 
for  the  influence,  so  sincere  and  direct,  which  moulded  their 
character. 

There  is  a  chapel  called  "Salem,"  belonging  to  one  of 
these  German  congregations,  which  seems  to  embody  to 
perfection  this  peculiar  ideal  of  a  disciplined,  unemotional 
faith.  It  is  very  old,  and  the  tradition  survives  that  the  man 
who  established  it  lived  in  constant  fear  of  Indians;  and 
when  they  were  out  on  the  war-path  he  would,  for  weeks 


^be  IRcw  "BvibQC  163 

together,  hide  his  wife  away  at  night  in  a  hollow  sycamore, 
like  the  maid  of  the  Dismal  Swamp. 

This  Salem  chapel  is  of  gray  limestone,  standing  on  a 
cross-country  road.  It  seems  remote  and  isolated  in  its 
woods.  The  singing  birds  and  droning  bees  make  a  daily 
choir  about  it,  forest  odors  sweeten  the  air,  and  busy  chip- 
munks and  small  wild  life  give  a  gentle  animation  to  the 
neighborhood.  The  still  gray  church  waits  for  the  days  of 
worship,  when  the  country  boys  and  girls,  the  mothers  and 
working  farmers,  gather  in  it  to  listen  to  the  pastor  who 
makes  his  visitation.  There  is  an  indescribable  charm 
in  this  chapel  in  the  woods,  standing  as  so  many  such  stood 
in  early  days,  when  the  faith  in  its  purity  was  the  mainspting 
of  life  to  the  men  who  cleared  the  forests. 

The  Dunker  dress  gives  one  of  the  present-day  charac- 
teristics to  the  valley.  It  is  cut  on  the  simplest  lines,  and 
is  generally  black.  The  bonnet  covered  with  black  cloth 
flares  slightly,  framing  but  not  hiding  the  face.  The 
smoothly  drawn  hair  under  its  prim  halo  gives  a  serious  look 
even  to  young  faces;  and  when  beauty  that  will  not  be  denied 
is  so  framed,  there  is  nothing  more  fascinating  than  this 
quaint  head  dress.  Once,  looking  up  in  a  street  car  in 
Hagerstown,  a  picture  was  seen  fit  for  an  artist.  A  tall 
and  slender  young  woman  sat  opposite,  whose  sensitive 
face  seemed  to  shine  with  an  inner  light.  Her  serious  eyes 
were  deeply  blue,  an  exquisite  color  tinged  her  delicate  skin, 
and  the  golden  hair  which  should  have  been  smoothly 
banded  under  the  severe  black  bonnet,  broke  away  in 
tendrils  like  a  vine.  It  was  a  picture  of  youth  restrained, 
of  beauty  independent  of  setting,  and  spiritually  refined 
by  the  discipline  of  a  somewhat  rigid  faith. 


i64  Zbc  anttetam 

There  is  another  type  often  seen  through  the  country 
or  in  town  on  market  days;  the  woman  of  middle  age,  whose 
dark  eyes  are  calm,  and  whose  face  expresses  a  great  deal  of 
practical  sense  and  the  look  of  a  full  experience  of  life,  un- 
dergone without  worry.  These  are  the  wives  of  farmers, 
often  very  well  to  do,  whose  lives  are  full  of  business,  who 
work  early  and  late,  yet  who  seem  to  meet  the  changes  and 
chances  of  life  with  a  quiet  spirit.  Who  can  tell  what  a 
factor  in  this  placid  look  is  the  mere  fact  that  the  wearer 
never  has  to  consider  the  fashion  in  bonnets. 

To  every  part  of  America  which  the  Germans  settled, 
they  took  this  sincere  religious  sentiment,  and  Whitefield 
writing  of  his  experiences  with  them  in  the  South  says : 

"They  are  remarkable  for  their  sweetness  and  sim- 
plicity of  behavior.  They  talk  little;  they  think  much. 
Most  of  them,  I  believe,  are  Lutherans. " 

The  next  bridge  which  crosses  the  Antietam  after  that 
at  Bridgeport  is  the  bridge  at  the  Old  Forge.  To  find  it  one 
can  leave  Hagerstown  by  the  Leitersburg  pike,  and  turning 
off  into  a  crossroad,  go  through  the  delightful  little  settle- 
ment of  Fiddlersburgh.  One  could  hardly  weight  down  such 
a  drift  of  houses  with  the  name  of  village.  It  is  a  scattered 
collection,  with  as  little  coherence  as  if  one  flung  a  handful 
of  grain  in  the  air,  and  let  it  light  as  it  would.  Fiddlers- 
burgh turns  around  the  foot  of  a  hill,  follows  up  a  rocky 
slope,  and  wanders  into  a  wood,  with  as  little  plan  as  a  boy 
rambling  at  large  on  a  holiday.  Its  log  houses  and  stone 
walls,  its  irregular  enclosures  and  bits  of  garden,  its  curious 
porches  and  chimneys,  are  as  unique  and  impossible  to 
imitate  as  a  wandering  air,  or  a  bird's  flight.  There  was  a 
time,  when  at  any  hour,  from  morning  till  night,  the  air 


Zhc  l^vlbQC  at  ®lb  forge  165 

trembled  to  the  quivering  of  fiddle-strings,  and  light  jigs 
and  melodies  floated  to  the  woods,  to  mingle  their  quavering 
notes  with  the  chirping  of  birds.  It  was  then  it  earned  its 
name  of  Fiddler sburgh. 

Following  the  country  road,  by  field  and  farms,  beauti- 
ful when  the  fruit  trees  blossom  or  when  the  grain  is  ripe,  one 
comes  again  to  the  Antietam  and  the  Old  Forge.  Here  the 
stream  is  wide,  and  broken  into  several  channels  by  islands 
large  enough  to  carry  a  growth  of  trees  and  bushes.  The 
water  rushes  between  them  with  a  great  hurry  and  noise, 
down  to  the  mill  dam.  The  bridge  is  a  large  one  of  three 
arches,  spreading  wide  over  the  water.  Under  one  end  of  it, 
after  it  reaches  dry  land,  is  a  cattle  run.  Within  a  stone 's- 
throw  is  a  large  stone  mill,  as  different  as  possible  from  the 
quaint  rambling  mill  at  Trovinger's.  This  is  three  stories 
high,  a  square,  massive  building,  now  unhappily  deserted, 
and  beginning  to  fall  to  pieces,  with  great  cracks  in  the  walls. 
Across  the  road,  up  on  a  hill,  is  a  stone  house  with  the  un- 
mistakable air  of  having  been  a  home  of  the  "quality. "  An 
arched  doorway  in  the  side  wall  gives  it  a  look  of  distinction. 
It  has  a  curious  appearance  of  having  no  particular  front, 
every  approach  being  equally  important,  all  equally  exposed. 
The  land  slopes  away  from  it  in  every  direction.  This  hilly 
character  makes  the  place  attractive,  and  the  water  being 
unusually  noisy  here,  and  a  cluster  of  postal  delivery  boxes 
perched  on  the  end  of  the  bridge,  on  poles,  like  pigeons* 
nests,  makes  it  seem  a  friendly  enough  place.  The  road 
which  crosses  the  bridge  is  a  well  travelled  one,  being  the 
way  from  Hagerstown  to  Smithsburgh. 

The  name  of  Old  Forge  belongs  to  the  place  because  the 
Hughes  brothers  had  their  furnace  and  nail  forge  at  this  spot. 


1 66  ^be  antletam 

They  were  a  family  of  Irish  descent,  whose  progenitor  came 
over  in  1750,  and  they  became  very  prominent  in  the  history 
of  Washington  County.  They  acquired  vast  tracts  of  land, 
so  that  it  was  said  that  the  whole  face  of  the  South  Mountain 
from  where  Black  Rock  looks  out  like  an  eagle  over  the 
valley,  to  the  Pennsylvania  Line,  and  from  the  top  of  the 
ridge  to  the  banks  of  the  Antietam,  was  owned  by  them. 
They  operated  several  furnaces,  Mount  ^^tna,  Mont  Alto, 
and  the  Forge,  fought  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  identi- 
fied themselves  thoroughly  with  the  fortunes  of  their  adopted 
country,  with  all  the  adaptability  of  Irishmen  who  throw 
themselves  heart  and  soul  into  the  interests  of  a  new 
land. 

The  tablets  on  the  bridge,  commemorating  its  first  erec- 
tion in  1763  and  its  rebuilding  in  1793,  carry  on  them  two 
other  names,  intimately  connected  with  the  early  history  of 
the  valley,  those  of  Jacob  Friend  and  Lancelot  Jaques. 
Charles  Friend  came  to  the  valley  in  1739  ^^^  settled  at  the 
mouth  of  the  sister  stream,  the  Conococheague.  He  was  one 
of  the  very  first  to  whom  grants  of  land  were  made.  His 
tracts  were  on  the  Williamsport  bank  of  the  stream,  and  he 
called  them  "Sweed's  Delight,"  the  second  "Dear  Bargain, " 
and  the  third  "None  Left,"  giving  a  concise  history  of  his 
acquisitions. 

Lancelot  Jaques  came  later  to  the  valley,  having  first 
settled  in  Frederick.  He  was  a  French  Huguenot,  a  man  of 
very  charming  address,  who  came  over  as  agent  for  English- 
men owning  plantations,  absentee  landlords  who  expected 
an  unending  stream  of  money  to  flow  from  the  new  country 
to  the  old.  He  also  took  up  land  in  the  western  part  of  the 
valley,  near  Indian  Spring. 


Z\)c  Brlbge  at  ©lb  iforge  167 

It  seems  curious  that,  being  on  such  a  long  travelled  road, 
connected  with  some  of  the  oldest  interests  in  the  county, 
the  bridge  at  the  Old  Forge  should  be  in  reality  the  youngest 
of  the  bridges. 


CHAPTER  XV 

The  Two  Bridges  at  Leitersburg 

TN  going  from  Hagerstown  to  Leitersburg,  one  travels 
*  through  a  beautiful  reach  of  valley  land,  fertile  and 
almost  level,  which  stretches  unbroken  up  into  Pennsylvania, 
and  is  known  as  the  "Long  Meadows."  It  is  so  rich  and 
desirable,  and  so  well  watered,  that  it  was  the  first  part  of 
the  valley  to  be  taken  up  by  settlers,  and  the  earliest  grants 
of  land  in  what  is  now  Washington  County  were  made 
almost  entirely  to  settlers  in  the  Long  Meadows. 

The  earliest  divisions  of  the  county  were  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  what  they  are  now.  The  Hagerstown  valley  was 
a  part  of  Frederick  County.  Between  the  mountains  and 
the  Antietam,  from  the  Potomac  River  on  the  South  to  the 
Pennsylvania  Line  on  the  North,  lay  the  Antietam  Hundred. 
The  tract  was  so  large  as  to  be  unwieldy,  and  was  later 
divided  into  the  Upper  Middle  and  Lower  Antietam  Hun- 
dreds. On  the  western  bank  of  the  stream,  the  Salisbury 
Hundred  stretched  from  the  Line  down  to  an  old  bounding 
road  near  Hagerstown.  Below  this  road  down  to  the  Poto- 
mac lay  the  Marsh  Hundred.  This  division  by  Hundreds 
was  borrowed  from  England,  where  the  name  of  this  terri- 
torial imit  was  supposed  to  be  derived  from  the  grouping  of 

z68 


Zhc  Zvoo  16rlbgc0  at  Xeitereburo       169 

one  himdred  families  for  purposes  of  defence.  It  was  larger 
than  a  parish,  and  smaller  than  a  county. 

Some  of  the  most  noted  names  of  early  days  are  associated 
with  the  Long  Meadows.  Two  well  known  men  owned  land 
in  it,  but  never  lived  on  their  holdings;  these  were  the  cele- 
brated Colonel  Henry  Bouquet,  and  Daniel  Dulaney.  But 
others  not  less  prominent  lived  there,  and  in  some  instances 
the  old  houses  which  they  built  are  still  standing.  The 
earliest  grant  to  land  in  the  valley  is  believed  to  be  that 
given  to  the  stout  Yorkshireman,  Colonel  Thomas  Cresap, 
who  acquired  his  tract  in  1739.  At  about  the  same  time 
Charles  Friend,  and  Jeremiah  Jack,  Nicholas  Christ,  Jona- 
than Hager,  and  others,  became  owners  of  land  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. On  the  Long  Meadows  once  lived  Colonel  Hart, 
whose  daughter  Lucretia  married  Henry  Clay,  and  the  house 
where  he  lived  still  stands.  General  Sprigg  lived  in  great 
state  at  "Paradise,"  and  kept  up  a  magnificent  establish- 
ment. 

Among  them  all  there  was  no  stronger  personality  than 
that  of  Colonel  Cresap  who  was  a  typical  frontiersman.  His 
house  was  a  fort,  built  over  a  spring  of  water,  so  that  if  he 
was  besieged  by  Indians  his  supply  was  secure.  He  was  a 
cunning  strategist,  and  a  great  Indian  fighter.  No  one  made 
war  on  them  more  constantly,  nor  more  ferociously  than  he, 
nor  with  greater  success.  When  the  red  man  went  on  the 
war-path,  all  the  neighbors  took  refuge  at  Cresap's  fort. 

He  seems  to  have  been  one  who  scented  the  battle  with  as 
keen  a  joy  as  the  war-horse  of  old,  and  he  did  not  fight  the 
aborigines  only.  When  the  German  settlers  were  believed 
to  be  dealing  unfairly  with  the  State  of  Maryland,  when  the 
Line  between  Pennsylvania  and  Maryland  was  in  dispute, 


I70  ^be  antletam 

Cresap  took  arms  against  the  Germans.  In  this  border 
warfare  he  was  taken  prisoner,  and  kept  in  confinement  in 
Philadelphia  for  more  than  a  year.  He  is  said  to  have  amused 
and  provoked  the  citizens  by  calling  the  Quaker  City  the 
"finest  in  the  Province  of  Maryland. "  Another  time,  when 
he  wished  to  force  the  Assembly  at  Annapolis  to  protect  the 
rights  of  Maryland,  he  formed  a  company  of  young  men,  who 
painted  themselves  and  dressed  like  Indians;  and  marched 
with  them  as  far  as  Federick  on  his  way  to  the  capital. 
He  must  have  been  dissuaded  from  following  out  this  ad- 
venture, for  we  hear  no  more  of  them  beyond  that  point. 
He  came  to  America  as  a  lad  of  fifteen,  and  first  lived 
near  Havre-de-Grace,  a  town  whose  beautiful  name  is  so 
grotesquely  anglicized  into  "  Havader-Grass. "  He  married 
young,  in  the  first  instance,  but  his  second  venture  was  made 
when  he  was  over  eighty  years  old.  England  commissioned 
him  to  map  out  the  Potomac  River  and  its  sources,  and  he 
was  chosen  to  lay  out  a  road  between  Cumberland  and 
Pittsburg.  After  he  left  the  Long  Meadows  he  founded  a 
town  near  Cumberland,  which  he  named  Cresaptown,  but 
which  was  afterward  named  Oldtown.  But  when  the  In- 
dians came  back  to  the  Hagerstown  valley,  burning  and 
mtirdering,  he  returned  and  fought  them  as  fiercely  as  ever. 
He  showed  the  stalwart  stuff  of  which  he  was  made  by  his 
activity  in  old  age,  for  when  over  seventy  he  made  a  trip  to 
England;  and  when  more  than  one  hundred  he  sailed  up 
into  Nova  Scotian  waters,  no  easy  journey  in  those  times. 
His  hospitality,  his  tales  of  the  frontier,  his  joviality,  made 
him  a  splendid  companion.  Such  was  the  product  of  the  old 
world  grafted  on  the  new,  and  of  such  fibre  the  men  who 
settled  on  the  Long  Meadows. 


^be  ZTwo  Brlbges  at  Xelterabura       171 

After  following  up  the  Meadows  for  a  distance,  the  road 
turns  at  an  angle  towards  Leitersburg.  It  passes  through  a 
beautiful  stretch  of  gently  swelling  country,  not  in  the  suc- 
cession of  steep,  wave-like  ridges  which  characterizes  so 
much  of  the  valley  floor.  Here  it  merely  rounds  into  gentle 
slopes,  often  crested  by  woodland,  falling  now  and  then  to 
low,  emerald  meadows,  watered  by  full  streams.  Through- 
out this  tract,  the  close  neighborhood  of  Pennsylvania  begins 
to  be  felt.  There  is  a  little  less  of  the  sweet  untidiness  of 
southern  farms,  a  little  more  of  the  neatness  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vanian.  With  this  change  comes,  of  course,  a  slight  loss  of 
the  picturesque,  for  it  is  undeniable  that  a  loosening  of  the 
reins  of  order  helps  to  make  sketchable  material.  A  white- 
washed fence  with  every  paling  in  place,  and  well  swept 
path,  and  lawn  cut  to  a  nicety,  are  never  the  same  thing  in 
the  picture  as  a  stone  wall  a  little  ragged  about  the  coping 
with  a  tangle  of  hollyhocks  and  tiger  lilies. 

Along  this  part  of  the  valley  the  thrifty  Germans  settled. 
They  built  themselves  saw-mills,  grist-mills,  and  hemp-mills 
along  the  Antietam,  and  had  tanneries  and  distilleries.  The 
hemp  they  raised  was  used  in  the  rope  walks  at  Hagerstown, 
owned  by  Colonel  Hart  and  Nathaniel  Rochester.  Some 
of  the  mills  are  still  standing,  or  have  been  lebuilt  once  or 
twice.  The  old  stone  houses  survive  at  least  in  part,  having 
been  built  on  and  added  to.  The  house  of  the  first  Leiter, 
who  gave  his  name  to  the  village,  still  exists  as  part  of  a 
larger  dwelling.  There  are,  too,  many  old  log  houses,  with 
heavy,  square-built  chimneys  on  the  outside,  giving  them 
a  very  quaint  look.  The  Germans  became  prosperous,  and 
even  wealthy  in  this  favored  country,  and  from  having 
arrived,  as  an  early  writei    says,   with    all    their  worldly 


172  Zlye  antletam 

possessions  in  very  small  compass,  and  chief  and  most  valu- 
able among  them,  a  copy  of  the  Heidelberg  Catechism, 
they  handed  down  money  and  lands  to  their  children. 

A  curious  story  is  told  in  connection  with  one  of  the 
distilleries  in  this  district,  which  was  owned  by  Mr.  Joseph 
Gabby.  A  man  went  to  it,  and  stole  a  copper  measure  with 
a  quantity  of  whiskey  in  it.  He  was  followed,  and  caught 
with  it  in  his  possession,  and  sent  to  the  penitentiary. 

As  soon  as  he  was  released,  he  went  back  by  stealth,  and 
succeeded  in  taking  away  once  more  the  very  same  copper 
vessel  with  the  same  amount  of  liquor.  He  seemed  an 
incorrigible  evil-doer,  and  was  taken  again,  and  sent  once 
more  to  prison. 

He  served  his  two  years,  and  would,  one  would  think, 
have  been  cured  of  his  desire  to  steal  from  Mr.  Joseph  Gabby. 
But  the  poor  creature,  as  quickly  as  might  be  after  his  second 
release,  possessed  by  one  idea,  stole  back  to  the  object  which 
fascinated  him,  and  for  the  third  time  ran  away  with  the 
coveted  copper  measure.  He  was  taken  again,  but  this 
time  the  judge  refused  to  sentence  him,  not  considering  him 
responsible  for  such  a  curious  mania.  In  the  olden  times  he 
would  have  been  thought  bewitched;  to-day  his  fieak  might 
be  ascribed  to  a  sort  of  hypnotism  exercised  over  his  rather 
feeble  mind  by  the  bright  copper  vessel. 

Before  the  Civil  War,  a  constant  stream  of  escaping 
slaves  passed  through  this  country,  stealing  away  from  their 
masters  in  Virginia.  They  followed  the  old  trail  along  the 
mountain  top,  that  the  Indian  warriors  and  hunters  had 
used,  always  preferring  the  high  ground  for  travelling. 
They  would  then  creep  down  into  the  valley  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Leitersburg,  to  cross  the  line  into  the  free  State 


9^biT<' 


172 


CTc  antletam 


possession? 
able  anvn. 

■Ji8  stor 
in  this  ('! 
>  »t»oi.>>'.    A  man  \^ 
A  quantity  of  whisi. 


^ass,  and  chief  and  most  valu- 
the  TT*idelberg  Catechism, 
and  U:  leir  children. 

with  one  of  the 
•*d  by  Mr.  Josqjh 
-  -  me^ure  with 
..  .-.     — ^  ..„-  '   nnrl  caught 

with  it  in  his  possession,  and  sent  to  th 

As  soon  as  he  was  released,  he  went  back  by  stealth,  and 
succeeded  in  taking  away  onoe  more  the  very  same  copper 
\tNS<'l  with  the  same  *  '  He  seemed  an 

incorrigible  evil-doer,  r:   and  sent  once 

more  to  prison. 

have  been  cured  of  his  c! 
But  the  poor  creatiare, 
release,  possessed  by  or 
fascinated  him,  and  foi   n 
coveted  copper  measure, 
time  the  judge  refused  to  & 
responsible  for  such  a  curi^ 
:ave  been  thoti-. 

>^^"ibed  to  a  *■'• 
..cote  flaiorf  '■"  '■^  •' 

ftsfopp  r^m  of  escaping 

sfciws  f?*siiifcsd  throur  'try,  sU  ay  from  their 

miuster  i lowed  '}«» <ild  trail  along  the 

mounUi  and  hunters  had 

used,   aiwisji:    i/rn^rms   i-nc  'd   for   travelling. 

They  wo-"''^   >••■     •-*-«>  down  ini^  .....     ....ey  in  the  neighbor- 
hood o  -o  cross  the  line  into  the  free  State 


■T         M      n  -J     *r»uld  think. 
1  urn  pike  Bridge  """«., 

iabby. 

as  second 

lect  which 

XV  ay  with  the 

again,   but  this 

/t  considering  him 

In  the  olden  times  he 

o-day  his  freak  might 

rcised  over  his  rather 


^be  ^wo  Bridges  at  Xeltereburg       173 

beyond.  Many  a  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  crossed  the  Antie- 
tam  here  under  cover  of  night,  and  crept  along  the  road 
toward  Pennsylvania.  We  can  see  them  in  imagination, 
half -wild  creatures,  black  men  and  bright  mulattoes,  stealing 
through  the  fords,  or  sculling  over  when  the  water  was  high. 
It  is  a  memorable  thing  in  connection  with  the  stream,  that 
slavery  terminated  at  either  end  of  the  Antietam.  Here  it 
passed  into  free  country  while  the  great  battle  fought  at  its 
mouth  decided  the  fate  of  slavery  in  America  forever. 

One  of  the  best  known  names  in  connection  with  this  part 
of  the  valley,  is  that  of  the  Leiters.  In  early  days  it  was 
variously  spelled,  as  Lyder,  Leidre,  and  Lider.  The  original 
settler  of  that  name  was  Jacob  Leiter,  who  in  1762,  was 
granted  the  tract  on  which  Leitersburg  now  stands.  He 
purchased  it  from  the  celebrated  Indian  fighter  Poe.  The 
name  of  the  tract  was  "Well  Taught,  "and  some  of  the  most 
valuable  farms  in  the  district  are  situated  on  the  land  he 
then  acquired.  He  had  a  large  family  of  sons  and  daughters. 
Some  became  farmers  and  millers.  A  grandson  was  an 
architect  and  builder,  and  built  the  old  Jacob's  church  near 
the  Line,  and  the  first  brick  schoolhouse  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

There  are  some  delightful  names  among  the  grants  in  this 
district,  such  as  "Huckleberry  Hall,"  and  "The  Hollow 
House,"  and  the  pretty  "Welcome  to  Antietam."  The 
naming  of  these  old  tracts  of  land  presents  an  interesting 
study,  and  is  plainly  a  survival  of  the  days  of  chivalry.  To 
the  settlers  in  the  States,  who  had  left  the  countries  of  titles 
and  armorial  bearings,  they  answered  to  the  "devices" 
which  were  so  popular  in  the  Middle  Ages.  These  devices 
were,  properly  speaking,  composed  of  two  parts,  the  "body" 


174  ^be  Hntietam 

and  the  "soul,"  the  former  being  the  painted  emblem,  and 
the  latter  the  motto  or  legend  which  expressed  its  meaning. 
They  were  never  the  property  of  the  family,  as  was  the 
crest;  but  only  of  the  individual  by  or  for  whom  they  were 
composed.  Women  of  wit  were  fond  of  inventing  devices 
and  embroidering  them  for  their  friends.  In  English  and 
in  Scottish  halls  may  still  be  seen  their 

needle-craft, ' 

And  curious  tapestry, 
Which  moulders  on  the  walls,  brave  scrolls 

Of  dim  antiquity, 
Embodying  many  a  quaint  device 

Of  love  and  chivalry. 

'  As  a  perfect  example  of  the  old  device  we  have  the 
heart-shaped  knot  of  Sir  Thomas  Heneage,  with  the  legend, 
"Fast  though  Untied";  and  the  device  of  Anne  of  Brittany, 
"Un  seul  d6sir."  The  veiled  meaning,  of  which  these  give 
an  example,  was  an  essential  part  of  the  device,  which  was 
meant  only  to  be  understood  by  the  few.  They  were  for 
mystification,  with  a  covert  meaning,  obscure.  They 
hinted  at  a  condition,  a  state  of  mind.  A  reference  was 
made  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  clear  to  the  persons  in  the 
secret  only. 

These  conditions  were  often  carried  out  in  the  naming  of 
land  grants.  Some  were  purely  allusive,  and  of  such  a 
character  are  the  obscure  "Need  Not,"  and  the  musical 
"Keep  Tryste."  "Summit  of  Policy,"  the  name  of  one  of 
the  first  Hughes  grants,  fulfils  the  condition  of  not  making 
its  meaning  clear  to  the  uninitiated,  yet  indicates  some 
finessing  in  acquiring  the  property.     Some  are  long,  such 


Z\)c  Zvoo  Bridges  at  ILeltereburg        175 

as  "Search  well  and  you  will  find  it,"  "The  third  time  of 
asking, "  and  "  I  am  glad  it  is  no  worse. " 

Some  tickled  the  ear  with  alliteration,  as  in  "Nancy's 
Fancy,"  "Darling's  Delight,"  and  "Penny  Pack  Pond." 
There  is  a  pleasant  hint  of  bachelor  freedom  in  the  pretty 
"Toddy  Lane";  and  The  "Leather  Button,"  would  seem  to 
be  our  friend  the  Leather  Bottell,  badly  spelled,  as  were 
many  things  in  the  old  clerks*  records. 

Some  were  of  a  sour  turn,  as  "Very  Cold, "  and  "  Trouble 
Enough,"  "Hurry,"  "Strife,"  and  the  curt  and  fierce 
"Slay!" 

Over  many  is  the  trail  of  woman.  So  were  celebrated 
"Nanny,"  "The  Dutch  Lass,"  and  "Virgin  Fair."  One 
was  "Nancy's  Content,"  and  another  "Magdalen's  Fancy." 
And  though  these  latter  names  are  obvious,  and  do  not  carry 
out  the  condition  of  obscurity,  one  must  like  them,  as  well  as 
the  hearty  "Lads  and  Lasses,"  "Paradise  Regained,"  and 
the  pretty  "Flaggy  Meadow,"  and  "Agree  in  Peace  " 

To  Cresap's  grants  were  given  names  of  localities  in  the 
old  country:  "Skipton-on-Craven,"  "Leeds,"  and  "Lin- 
ton"; and  the  attractive  "Skie  Thorn."  They  give  a 
picturesqueness  to  the  study  of  old  deeds  and  records,  a 
flavor  of  romantic  conceits,  a  pleasant  exercise  of  wits.  The 
man  who  named  his  places  "Sly  Fox,"  and  "The  Old  Fox 
Deceived,"  must  always  have  chuckled  to  himself  when  he 
had  occasion  to  write  the  titles.  And  it  is  a  pleasant  com- 
mentary on  our  great-grandfathers  that  they  amused  them- 
selves in  this  way,  even  over  such  dry  and  dusty  matters 
as  land  grants  and  legal  documents. 

The  visit  to  the  last  two  bridges  over  the  Antietam  was 
made  at  that  lovely  season  when  the  grain  fields  are  ripe. 


176  ^be  Hntietam 

The  whole  drive  through  the  valley  was  of  great  beauty. 
The  gentle  slopes  and  swelling  lands  were  in  full  harvest-tide, 
and  the  grain  so  deeply  golden  as  to  be  almost  a  copper  red. 
In  many  fields  the  wheat  was  still  untouched,  in  others  the 
harvesting  was  going  on.  And  these  red-gold  fields  had 
always  their  background  of  groups  of  dark  trees,  bits  of  old 
forest  left  standing,  and  behind  all,  the  exquisite  blue  of  the 
hills.  It  was  a  clear  evening,  a  few  compact  cloud  masses, 
floating  in  air  as  clear  as  crystal,  made  the  surrounding  sky 
seem  the  more  limpid.  The  breeze  had  the  exhilaration  of 
the  mountain,  and  the  fragrance  of  pine  and  fern.  In  many 
fields  the  com  rows  cut  through  the  tawny  grain  with  lines 
of  pale  green.  And  everywhere  were  men  working  with 
reapers,  horses  straining  at  their  loads,  hay  wagons  coming 
down  the  road  with -their  immense  burdens,  and  cattle  on 
their  evening  home-coming.  It  was  a  scene  of  prosperity 
and  thrifty  beauty.  And  many  of  the  old  stone  farm  houses 
which  stood  by  the  way  knit  the  present  to  the  past. 

Before  the  village  is  reached,  the  road  crosses  the  An- 
tietam  by  the  first  of  the  Leitersburg  bridges.  It  is  a  large 
and  handsome  one,  built  by  the  Lloyds,  who  made  the 
turnpike  bridge  at  Funkstown.  The  stream  has  changed 
its  course  since  the  bridge  was  erected,  for  one  arch  is  en- 
tirely over  dry  land.  At  the  time  of  the  heavy  rains  of  1884 
the  course  of  many  streams  in  this  part  of  the  valley  was 
altered. 

At  either  end  of  the  bridge,  the  curtain  walls  make  a 
beautiful  curve,  and  then  straighten  out  to  meet  the  full 
width  of  the  road,  and  this  feature  gives  a  distinctive  touch 
which  is  very  pleasing.  The  bridge  stands  high  out  of  the 
water,  and  has  well  rounded  abutments  to  divide  the  ice- 


^be  ^wo  Bribges  at  Xeltersburg       177 

packs.  A  veil  of  faint  green  colors  the  stones,  an  effect 
produced  by  a  charming  growth  of  small  ferns,  which  root 
between  them.  The  water  willows  and  sycamores  which 
follow  along  the  bank  hide  an  old  mill  at  a  distance  around 
the  bend  of  the  stream.  Both  bridge  and  surroundings  are 
very  interesting,  and  differ  totally  in  character  from  the  next 
one,  which  is  found  on  the  other  side  of  the  village  on  a  dirt 
road,  which  leads  up  into  Pennsylvania. 

This  last  of  the  Antietam  bridges,  as  was  the  first,  is  the 
work  of  John  Weaver;  but  in  spite  of  his  having  built  so 
many,  he  was  still  inventive,  and  made  of  it  something  quite 
unique  in  the  series,  and  entirely  in  harmony  with  its  sur- 
roundings. It  is  just  the  bridge  for  a  cross-country  road, 
where  the  stream  is  shallow,  and  shows  more  of  the  rivulet 
than  the  river.  The  Antietam  takes  on  at  this  spot  quite  a 
different  character.  It  throws  away  its  veil  of  romance, 
casts  aside  the  mantle  of  water  willows  behind  which  it  is 
wont  to  hide,  leaves  off  the  twists  and  bends  round  which  its 
waters  curve  and  slide,  and  comes  frankly  to  light,  a  rippling 
stream  between  sunny  meadows.  Along  its  edge  on  one 
bank  stand  pollard  willows,  in  a  perfectly  straight  row, 
evenly  spaced  on  emerald  sward.  In  their  stiff  and  avenue- 
like effect  they  make  one  think  of  the  borders  of  canals  in 
Holland.  The  rich  green  meadow  which  shows  between 
the  trunks,  helps  out  this  illusion  of  artificial  planting. 
Opposite,  the  growth  is  more  natural  and  artless,  but  the 
whole  character  of  the  spot  is  very  different  from  the  usual 
romantic  appearance  of  the  Antietam  banks. 

John  Weaver  made  for  this  crossing  a  rustic  looking 
bridge,  with  a  narrow  roadway;  a  bridge  for  country  lanes 
and  calling  to  mind  pictures  of  English  rural  bridges,  small 
and  rather  rude,  but  attracti\'e  in  their  rusticity. 


178  ^be  antietam 

It  was  a  piece  of  rare  good  fortune  that  preserved  all 
these  bridges  through  the  dangers  of  war.  Large  bodies  of 
troops  passed  over  them  on  their  way  to  the  battlefields  of 
Antietam  and  Gettysburg,  leaving  them  unharmed.  The 
turnpike  bridge  at  Leitersburg  was  most  in  danger,  for 
the  order  was  given  to  destroy  it.  Some  of  the  people  of  the 
neighborhood,  very  much  disturbed  over  this  piece  of  news, 
got  up  a  petition  representing  that  there  were  very  good 
fords  through  the  creek,  and  that  the  destruction  of  the 
bridge  would  not  keep  back  the  enemy  and  would  only 
work  great  distress  to  the  country  people.  General  Lee  then 
recalled  the  order  for  the  destruction  of  the  bridge.  Had 
they  been  destroyed  by  the  troops  that  thundered  over  and 
by  them,  there  is  no  doubt  that  iron  bridges  would  have 
replaced  them,  and  the  Antietam  would  have  been  robbed  of 
all  the  poetry  and  beauty  of  her  road-crossings.  Fortunate 
was  the  State  which  could  have  invading  armies  pass 
through,  and  leave  so  little  mark. 


Jlr  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Complete  Catalogues  sent 
on  application 


"One  of  the  most  attractive  garden  books  of 
the  season," — The  Interior. 


A  Little 
Maryland  Garden 

By 

Helen  Ashe  Hays 

With  6  Fult-page  Illustrations  in  Color  and  24  Other  Mustra^ 

tions  by  Zulma  DcL.  Steele,     8yo.    $1.75  net. 

By  mail,  $2.00 

In  a  style  admirably  in  keeping  with  the  tranquil, 
rural  theme,  Miss  Hays  tells  of  the  planning  and 
development  of  her  garden,  and  of  the  varied 
delights  of  watching  over  it  and  caring  for  it.  She 
has  a  happy  faculty  of  enlisting  the  reader's  close 
attention  to  the  tranquil  story  of  her  quiet  adven- 
tures with  forsythias  and  mock-oranges,  tulips 
and  irises,  roses,  primroses  and  sweet  williams,  and 
many  another  lovely  and  perfumed  shrub  and 
flower.  From  this  book  the  amateur  gardener  will 
gather  many  a  precious  practical  hint. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 
New  York  London 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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LD  21-100m-ll,'49(B7146sl6)476 


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REC'D  LD 

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